


Weezl's Riordanverse Drabbles

by WeezlBot



Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Aftereffects of Abuse, Alcohol, Alcohol Withdrawal, Alex is Biologically Male, And they get them!, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apollo (Percy Jackson) Needs a Hug, Apollo (Percy Jackson) is a Good Parent, Arguments, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Canon-Typical Violence, Caretaking, Comfort Food, Crack, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, Dream interpretation, Eating Disorders, Emetophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fat Shaming, Fights, First Meetings, Fluff, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hades (Percy Jackson) is a Good Parent, Hermes Does His Best, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Insanity, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sex, Inappropriate Humor, Injury, Insecurity, Insomnia, Internalized Homophobia, Knives, Light Angst, Lullabies, Male-Female Friendship, Meg is gentle, Men Crying, Mentions of past injury, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Minor Frostbite, Multi, Narcolepsy, Nico Is Old-Fashioned, Nightmare Recovery, Nightmares, OOC (somewhat) Magnus Chase, Other, Painful Witchcraft, Paolo Montes Speaks Some English, Past Starvation, Pet Names, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Rejection, Self-Harm, Serious Talks, Sibling Love, Suicidal Percy Jackson, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Threats, Survivor Guilt, Swearing, The Burning Maze (Trials of Apollo) Spoilers, The Gods Are Their Own Warnings, The Tower of Nero (Trials of Apollo) Spoilers, The Tyrant's Tomb (Trials of Apollo) Spoilers, Trypanophobia, Unrequited Love, Verbal Abuse, Victim Blaming, Violence, Vomiting, Whump, Witchcraft, Zeus Is His Own Warning, aphrothotty is fucking everybody and she doesn't plan on stopping, because hurt/no comfort is something that Hurts Me, flowers grow out of Meg's skin, giant kittens, internalized fat shaming, she just kind of picks them off
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:15:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 183
Words: 346,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22233910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeezlBot/pseuds/WeezlBot
Summary: It's a drabble doc. That's about it.Chapter summaries:1: It's a Sherman/Miranda meet up fic. Not much other than that.2: Will has trouble expressing his emotions to his friends sometimes. His friends are worried.3: Will has something to ask Nico about. It winds up being a little painful.4. Clarisse has been having some trouble ever since Silena died.5. Rick never wrote the start of the Silena/Clarisse friendship. So I did.6. Clarisse La Rue is a troubled girl. Gleeson Hedge is a good teacher.7. Mitchell has trouble sleeping. Clovis is nice enough to lend a hand.8. Nico's dad sends him a birthday present. He and Lou decide to have a little fun with it.9. Percy gets a little insecure when it comes to love and intimacy. Annabeth reassures him.10. I wrote out an average head counselor's meeting at CHB. Except the Romans are there too.11. I have a HC that all Hypnos kids are narcoleptic. I wrote about it a little via Clovis.12. Will's got something that Nico needs to know about.13. Katie knew something was wrong when she couldn't hear Travis's laugh.All new summaries will be at the beginning of chapters.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Aphrodite/Hephaestus (Percy Jackson), Aphrodite/Hermes (Percy Jackson), Apollo/Paolo Montes, Apollo/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano (one-sided), Ariadne/Dionysus (Percy Jackson), Athena/Hermes (Percy Jackson) (one-sided), Calypso/Leo Valdez, Clarisse La Rue/Chris Rodriguez, Clovis/Mitchell (Percy Jackson), Clovis/Pollux (Percy Jackson), Ella/Tyson (Percy Jackson), Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Jason Grace/Piper McLean, Katie Gardner/Travis Stoll, Lou Ellen Blackstone/Cecil Markowitz, Magnus Chase/Alex Fierro, May Castellan/Hermes (past), Miranda Gardiner/Sherman Yang, Mitchell/Clovis/Pollux, Mitchell/Pollux (Percy Jackson), Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Paul Blofis/Sally Jackson, Sally Jackson/Poseidon (Percy Jackson) (one-sided)
Comments: 690
Kudos: 1035





	1. Sherman/Miranda-"Daughters of Demeter. Sounds like a terrible punk band."

**Author's Note:**

> The days of me spamming AO3 with short, tiny fics are over! I have started a drabble doc. All short, single-chapter PJO fics that I write (which is like all of them) will be here. Tags, characters, and relationships will be added as they become relevant.
> 
> Everything before the announcements (chapters 153 and 154) may not be canon, as it was written pre-TON. Everything post those announcements is canon to the best of my ability.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was suddenly inspired to write the Sherman/Miranda meeting. So I wrote it and made it the first chapter of this new drabble doc.

“... And these are the strawberry fields over here,” Annabeth explained. “I don’t know how relevant that’ll be to you, though. You don’t seem like the gardening type.” Annabeth explained. She was giving a newly-arrived and claimed Sherman Yang the standard tour. Clarisse was following along, halfway-sulking. Annabeth had made her come along because “Sherman is your brother and you should help him out.”

“I don’t give a fuck for plants,” Sherman muttered.

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” Annabeth replied. “Anyway, the people that are in there the most are the Demeter kids. All girls.”

“Daughters of Demeter. Sounds like a terrible punk band.”

“Kinda does. Anyway, they’re all over there. Or in there somewhere.” Annabeth waved dismissively. 

Sherman surveyed the fields. A few girls were hard at work messing with the plants and doing things Sherman didn’t understand. His eyes fell on a trim girl wearing one of those big floppy farmer-gardener-person type of hats with a red ribbon tied around it.  _ That is the  _ stupidest  _ hat I have ever seen.  _

_ On the hottest girl I have ever seen. _

_ Shit. _

“Hey, can I… are there strawberries on those bushes yet?” Sherman asked.

“Probably not,” Annabeth replied. “You can check, though.”

“I will,” Sherman said, shooting off in the direction of the pretty girl with the ugly hat. He sidled up towards her, pretending to check the bushes for berries. There weren’t any, of course, but it gave him a chance to be close. 

Suddenly, a girl’s voice cut through his thoughts. “If you’re looking for strawberries, you’re, like, three or four months early.”

Sherman looked up. His cheeks burned. “... Yeah, I… I’m sorry, I don’t know much about…”

The girl grinned at him from under her wide-brimmed hat. “Don’t worry about it. Not many people know anything about growing plants and berries. Say, I haven’t seen you before. Are you new?”

Sherman nodded. His head spun.

“Awesome! What’s your name?” Her smile made her glow.

Before Sherman could say anything, another taller girl came up behind the girl in the hat. “Miranda! If you keep talking to that boy I’m gonna put him to work pruning bushes!”

The girl—Miranda?—turned. “Sorry, Katie,” She turned back to Sherman. “Do you want to help?”

Sherman was once again cut off before he could speak. “Sherman! Get your sorry ass over here before I put my spear in it!”

Sherman turned. Clarisse’s anger was terrifying. “... I have to go,” he muttered. “My name’s Sherman Yang. You can find me… later.” He ran for Clarisse, who was now being chided by Annabeth for yelling at him. 

“I will! My name’s Miranda! You can find me right here!”


	2. Solangelo-An Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has difficulty showing his emotions to his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found this old thing while sorting through my old docs. Gave it a semicoherent ending and posted it here.

Nico di Angelo jolted upright, squinting dazedly in the sun that streamed through the window. _What time is it? Oh, gods, the sun’s really high. Shouldn’t Will have woken me up by now? I mean, at least that’s what he_ usually _does. Well, at least we don’t have any cabin leader meetings today._ Nico stood up and stretched, pulling on his jeans. _Damn, I’ve probably missed breakfast, haven’t I? Oh well. With the way that the sun looks, it’s probably almost lunch. Wait, why would Will not have woken me? I should go check to make sure I didn’t sleep through some big attack or something._ Nico left the Hades cabin, unwashed and unbrushed, and ran for the infirmary. There didn’t seem to be any property damage, which was reassuring. 

Nico slammed through the door of the infirmary. “Will?”

“Not him,” a dark figure responded.

“Austin? Why are you minding the infirmary? Where’s Will?”

“I—” 

Nico grabbed the collar of Austin’s coat and pinned him against the wall. “Where. Is. Will?”

“Okay, okay, chill! Will’s not… he’s not feeling well. He’s taking some alone time,” Austin sighed.

Nico’s eyebrows crinkled and he released Austin. “Oh. Should I bring him some ambrosia and nectar? Some soup?”

“No, just give him some space.” Austin stood up in full and shook his head. 

Nico raised his eyebrows. “Is he that sick?”

Austin gave Nico a long look. “... He’s not that kind of sick.”

“... What other kind of sick is there?” Nico asked, genuinely confused. 

“... He’s a little… emotionally off. Not like crazy, just in his feelings.”

“‘In his feelings’?”

“Yeah. Sad and mopey.”

“Oh.” Nico paused. “What’s upsetting him?”

“I have no fucking clue. I don’t know why you’re asking me.”

Nico nodded. “... I’m gonna go talk to him.”

“Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Nico nodded. “I’ll go. You keep up the good work.”

“I’ll do my best, yes,” Austin nodded.

Nico left. He walked from the infirmary to the cabins, pausing in front of the brilliant gold facade of the Apollo cabin. _… I can’t go in there solo. It’s not allowed, and I don’t want to get in trouble just because I wanted to comfort my lover. I have to get Lou Ellen._

Nico continued on to the goddess-and-Dionysus cabin wings and banged on the door of Cabin 20. “Lou!”

“Gimme a minute! Half the cabin’s smoking and Kayla’s not wearing any pants!”

Nico rolled his eyes and waited. _Wait, Kayla? Like Kayla Knowles, daughter of Apollo? Like Will’s little sister?_

A minute later, Lou poked her head out the door. She was wearing a surgical mask that was stained with some weird purple goo, and her shoulder-length green-and-purple two-tone hair was tied back. “Sorry. There was an… an incident. If it smells funny in here, that’s why. It shouldn’t be any danger to human health, but I wouldn’t bring Gremlin in here if I were you. I don’t know how it would affect cats.”

“Good thing Gremlin’s not with me right now. May I come in?”

Lou turned behind her. “Kayla, are you wearing pants?”

“She’s in the bathroom!” a masculine voice responded. 

Nico raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t tell me Cecil was in there with you.”

“He is, yeah.”

“But wait, wouldn’t that mean that Kayla was naked in front of him?” 

“She was behind a curtain, so… not really.”

Nico shook his head. “Call me an old man if you want, but I think she should have disrobed in the bathroom _first_ instead of disrobing and then running to the toilet later. You know, just so she’s not flashing her privates at a man. Or you, for that matter.”

“Her pants were... sacrificed,” Lou tried.

“To _what?”_

“To a miscast, I guess. I’m just glad no one lost any limbs.”

“Yeah, that’s good. Can I talk to you now?”

“Sure, come in,” Lou replied.

Nico entered behind her. Cecil was sprawled in Lou’s bed eating Cheetos, crumbs falling into his shirt and over his belly. “Bro,” he greeted.

“Markowitz,” Nico acknowledged. “Have you seen Will at all today?”

“No, have you?” Cecil replied concernedly. 

“No. Austin said he was upset.”

“Tell me this, Nico,” Lou asked. “Have you ever seen Will cry?”

“Couple times, I don’t know.”

“Then you’re lucky. The guy cries so much we could end the entirety of the drought in California just by distilling his tears. It’d be funny if it weren’t so sad.”

“Hey, don’t be so harsh on him. He’s been through some shit,” Cecil grumbled. 

“I’m not harsh on him,” Lou argued, throwing her arms out wide.

“He never complains about anything. He never asks for attention when he’s upset, or even sympathy. All he ever asks for is space. And you’re making fun of him for crying. I’d say that’s pretty harsh.”

Lou paused and looked down. “... I’m sorry. You’re right. I am too harsh on him. I’m sorry. I just… I just… it’s really hard to deal with it sometimes. He’s so sad all of the time and it really hurts to see, especially when he shoves it down so well when he’s in public.”

“No, it hurts me too. I mean, he’s my best friend and I’m constantly worried that he’s gonna throw himself off the roof of the Big House. It feels terrible.”

“Wait, what?” Nico interjected. He was so lost for words that all he could choke out was a weak “But he doesn’t _seem_ like he’s sad all of the time.”

Cecil nodded and pursed his lips. “And that’s the killer. Will won’t let himself be upset in public, so he quarantines himself in the Apollo cabin and doesn’t come out unless there’s an emergency. And if there is an emergency, which is like 90% of the time, he comes out all sniffly and blotchy-faced with a big-ass fake smile on his face.” He shook his head. “It’s annoying as shit. The only good thing is that it doesn’t happen that often.”

“... I thought we could go try to… try to talk to him. See what’s wrong,” Nico attempted.

Cecil took a breath. “We could try, but I’m not sure how much good that would do.”

“You’re not gonna like this, but I agree with Nico,” Lou started. “Sometimes it’s nice to have someone there with you when you’re feeling upset. Now, I know that Will doesn’t like crying in front of people…”

“Which may be partially your fault, considering you tease him for crying.”

“That was _one comment,_ Cecil! I’ve never teased him to his _face!_ Anyway, I know that Will doesn’t like crying in front of people, but maybe… maybe it’ll help to know that we’ve got his back,” Lou attempted.

Cecil nodded. “Yeah.” He stood up, poured the rest of his Cheetos down his throat and said “Let’s go get Kayla before we go to Will. She’ll want a hand in helping her brother.”

“Oh, of course,” Nico agreed. 

Cecil knocked on the bathroom door. “Kay? You decent?”

“Yeah.” Kayla opened the door. “What’s up?”

“We think Will’s upset again. We’re gonna go do something about it.”

“Yeah, he’s in a funk again. I asked him what was wrong, he just said he didn’t want to talk. Told me to go run along and do something else.”

Cecil nodded. “You wanna come talk to him with us?”

“Oh, I’d _love_ to be a part of an intervention for my older brother for his inability to talk about his feelings. I’ve been waiting for this moment for, like, two years,” Kayla grinned. 

Cecil smiled back. “Great. Come with us, then.” 

Kayla bounded out of the bathroom and smiled up at Lou. “Let’s go.”

The foursome left for the Apollo cabin. Kayla opened the door and poked her head in. “Will?” she called.

“Kay?” a weak, hoarse voice responded. “Is everyone all right? Is someone hurt?”

Kayla opened the door in full and let the other three in. “Will, my good man. This is an intervention.”

Will sat up in his bed. His hair was mussed and unbrushed, his eyes were red and his face was blotchy. “A what? I don’t do drugs.”

“Interventions are not always about drugs or alcohol. This one is about your inability to be honest when you’re feeling sad,” Kayla said. 

“Yeah, Will,” Lou Ellen took over. “The thing is, you can’t keep locking yourself in your cabin when you’re upset. It’s like you’re trying to hide from your own emotions by hiding from us, and it’s annoying and upsetting to us because we _care_ about you.” Lou walked over and perched next to Will on the bed, putting a hand on his shoulder. Cecil, Kayla and Nico stood next to her. “We _want_ you to come to us when you’re sad. I know you hate complaining and I’m no huge fan of listening to bitching myself, but you’re taking it too far.”

“Yeah. Will, let’s face it. You’re destroying yourself,” Cecil started. “It’s painful to watch. Please, let us help you.”

Will met Nico’s eyes, a silent plea for help passing from him. Nico sighed. “... Will, I’m not here to berate you. I just want you to know that we worry about you, okay?”

Will took a breath. “I just… I’ve been informed that I’m difficult to deal with when I’m like this, so I isolated myself for your benefit.”

“Who told you _that?”_ Lou exploded incredulously. “I’ll kill them.”

“... Lilac. She got frustrated when I got self-deprecating one time and told me she couldn’t… couldn’t deal with me anymore.”

“... Pardon me for asking, but who’s Lilac?” Nico asked. “She’s not a demigod, is she?”

“No. She was a mortal friend of ours back when we weren’t living here full-time.”

 _I wonder if I should be worried that Lou referred to her in the past tense. Better not to ask._ “Oh. okay.”

There was a pause. Will looked around at the faces of his friends. “... I’m surprised Austin isn’t with you.”

“He’s in the infirmary,” Nico responded. 

“Is he hurt?” Will asked, eyes wide.

“No.”

“So he’s doing my job?”

“... I guess.”

“Son of a… Kayla, go get him out of there,” Will groaned, shaking his head. 

“Why?” Nico asked. 

“I don’t want _either_ of them doing infirmary work, but especially not Austin. It’s not that I don’t have faith in his intelligence or abilities, it’s just that he’s so… I don’t want him to…” Will trailed off as Kayla banged out the door and ran for the infirmary. “... The thing is, Austin’s _new._ He came in after the Battle of Manhattan. Kayla’s literally been here since birth and I came here just about eight months before you, Nico, and so I guess I just see him as…” Will stopped and sniffled. “I guess I see him as more… innocent.”

Nico nodded. “No, I understand. I see Hazel the same way. But right now is about _you,_ Will, not Austin. Do you want him to participate in this or no?”

“Whatever keeps him from infirmary work is fine by me.”

“Will,” Lou asserted gently. “Be real. Do you want Austin here or no?”

Will shook his head. “... Sure. Hell, invite the whole camp in here. I don’t give a shit.” He sniffled and sneezed. 

“... You want to be left alone, don’t you,” Lou guessed. 

“... I don’t know. Just… you’re all suffocating me.” Will sounded sick. “Go away and let me be a fucking miserable shit baby by myself.”

Lou nodded. “I get where you’re coming from, but honestly, after what you’ve seen, you have a right to cry.”

“Just shut up, Lou,” Will mumbled miserably. He curled his knees to his chest and put his head in his arms.

Lou nodded. She rubbed Will’s shoulders gently. Nico and Cecil took their own places next to Will. Nico put his hand on Will’s knee. Cecil sat at his feet at the foot of the bed. “... It’s all right,” Cecil murmured. “It’s gonna be all right.”

“Please don’t say that,” Will groaned. “Please.”

“Okay. I won’t,” Cecil agreed. 

Nico rested his head on Will’s knee. He didn’t know what to say, so he just _was,_ existing gently against Will as he wallowed in his misery.

Kayla and Austin bolted back in. “So, I hear there’s an intervention going on,” Austin started. 

“Yeah. We’re pulling an intervention on Will because of his inability to face his feelings and come to us when he’s upset,” Cecil snorted.

“Understandable. What are we gonna do?” Austin asked.

“Well, we’re gonna make him feel better first,” Lou explained, 

Kayla and Austin nodded sagely. Austin walked over and patted Will’s shoulder awkwardly. “... It’s gonna be okay.”

“Please, _please_ don’t say that,” Will begged. “I can’t handle… I can’t.”

“Okay, okay,” Austin eased. “I won’t say anything.”

“It’s not that. It’s just that even if there aren’t any more wars, something terrible could—will probably—still happen, and… and… I don’t want to be led into false hope,” Will sniffled. 

The others nodded, but didn’t say anything. It was a moment before Nico broke the silence. “... I know. It won’t be okay. It won’t ever be okay. But maybe… maybe there’s still some happiness left to find in the horror… I mean, I found some.”

Will looked up and sniffled. “... With me?”

“No, with Reyna and Percy,” Nico snarked. “Of course with you, idiot.”

Will gave a weak half-smile. “Couldn’t you just say something nice without all the assetry coating it?”

Nico smiled despite himself. Will just made everyone around him feel good. “I guess I could, but where would the fun in that be?”

“... It’d be nicer for me.”

Nico nodded. “... I’m sorry. I know I tease too much. It just feels right.”

“I don’t mind it normally, just…” Will’s words choked in his throat.

“Not right now?  
Will nodded. 

“Okay. I’ll save it.” Nico patted Will’s leg affectionately. “Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“Just…” Will scanned the faces of his friends, melting a little inside at all the care and tenderness he saw in their eyes. “Thank you.”

“Always welcome, Will.” Nico held him. “Now let’s go do something that isn’t crying, shall we?”


	3. Solangelo- You Don't Have to Say Anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just a lot of Solangelo fluff, honestly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found this going through my old fics. It was already completed and everything. Pretty sure that was the smartest thing the me of one or two years ago ever did.

“Nico?” Will asked, looking up from where he was rubbing Nico’s leg. Nico was having really bad growing cramps, and Will was trying to ease the pain a little bit. It was the August after they had started dating. They were sitting in the Hades cabin.

“Mhm?”

“I just remembered… I just remembered something… I’m not sure if it really happened, but…”

“You need to talk about it?”

Will nodded and pushed his fingers into a tender spot in Nico’s calf muscle. “Yeah.”

Nico sucked in a deep breath. “Ah! Okay. Talk.”

“I remembered… it was a few years ago, before the mess with the Roman emperors and the mess with Gaia and the Battle of Manhattan… and I think before the Battle of the Labyrinth too. Michael…” Will swallowed hard. “Michael woke me up. You had had… some kind of emergency. Travis Stoll had brought you to the infirmary and you were crying because your head hurt… your head hurt really bad.” Will took a breath and looked up into Nico’s dark chocolate eyes for a minute before looking back down at his hands, which were still idly making their way up and down on Nico’s leg. “And you were saying things… really sad things.”

Nico raised an eyebrow. “... I… um…” He looked away, feeling tears sting his eyes. 

Will noticed. “I’m sorry. Do you want to change the subject?”

Nico took a breath, looked down and gritted his teeth. “I remember what you’re talking about. I remember what I said. And I was right. She’s dead. Are you happy now?”

Will shook his head. “If you’re sad, I’m not happy.”

Nico gave a tiny squeak.

“Are you crying?”

Nico shook his head.

“I mean, like, it’s okay if you are.” 

Nico nodded. 

“...So… are you crying?”

Nico gave a very small, very slow nod. 

“Oh, honey,” Will whispered. “Oh, darlin’. I’m sorry.” He sat up, released Nico’s leg and held out his arms. “Will you hug me? Do you want me to give you a hug?”

Nico took a breath and held it. He crawled into Will’s arms and put his head on his shoulder.

Will heard a sob escape the younger boy. “Hey. Hey,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve to have her taken from you. I know you loved her. I’m sorry.”

Nico choked on a sob. “It wasn’t… please don’t… please…”

“Please don’t what, darlin’?”

“Don’t…” Nico sucked in a breath. His chest burned like it was tearing in two. “Don’t apologize. You… didn’t… didn’t do any… anything.” His words were punctuated by gasps.

“I’m apologizing for the situation, Nico.”

Nico didn’t reply. More sobs and gasps escaped his chest. To his relief, Will did not let go of him. Nico had always privately thought that one day he would cry and shake and be hurt and Will would not be there. Nico knew that one day Will would see him as repulsive. It was a given in his mind. But until that awful day would come, he would cherish Will’s love and attention while it lasted.

Will took a deep breath and prepared to take Nico’s pain. He knew how it would feel. He knew how intense it would be. Holding his breath, he reached out to Nico’s soul.  _ It’s okay, sweetie,  _ he projected into Nico’s head.  _ It’ll be okay. Please, give me your pain. I can handle it. It’s okay.  _

_ I can’t. _

_ Why? _

_ Bianca. It would be a betrayal. I need to mourn her. No one else did. _

_ Oh, baby. If Bianca really loved you, she wouldn’t want you to hang on to the pain. She’d want you to move on and let go. Please, let me take your pain. _

Nico managed a nod.

Will took another deep breath and took on the pain. A dull and familiar ache filled his chest. It brought Will back to the year and a half between the Battle of the Labyrinth and the day Percy had been kidnapped. He’d lost almost everyone he’d known in that time: several friends, six brothers, two sisters, one lover. He’d practically lost count of all the people he’d lost. Will took a deep breath and held it again, trying not to cry. Nico’s grief in his heart had put an image of Lee Fletcher in his head. Lee had been Will’s favorite brother, and quite possibly one of his favorite people of all time. The day he died had been one of the most painful days of his life. Will hadn’t stopped crying for a week.

Nico pulled away and dried his eyes. Once his tears were dry, he met Will’s eyes. Will was clearly really out of it, his eyes were dazed and unfocused, his eyebrows slightly scrunched, his lips slightly open, drool beginning to seep out. It made Nico’s heart break. “I’m sorry, Will. I really am. I just don’t know why you do this to yourself.”

“I spent two years hiding the fact that I could do this to avoid being in pain. I can’t deal with being that much of a coward anymore,” Will mumbled. 

Nico closed his eyes. “You’re a self-sacrificial bastard, you know that?”

Will nodded. “I’ve been called that before, yes.”

Nico sighed. “You’ve got to stop. Someday you’re gonna have a breakdown because of this and get yourself committed to the looney bin.”

Will took a breath and blinked slowly, trying to get his head in order. “I… I’m sorry.”

Nico sighed and brushed Will’s hair out of his face. “It’s okay. You just have to take better care of yourself, that’s all.”

“I take fine care of myself.”

Nico ran his hand idly up and down Will’s arm. “Are you sure? I mean, I know you eat, I know you bathe but... I worry that you do this to hurt yourself on purpose sometimes, and that… that’s really concerning.”

Tears sprang to Will’s eyes. “... I…”

Nico stayed quiet and took Will’s large hand in his small one. 

“I… I… I… I.. don’t… I’m sorry… I don’t…” Will heaved a breath and began to pull off his hoodie.

“Why are you… oh, my gods!” Nico jolted back as Will pulled off his hoodie, revealing small burns flecking over his arms. “How did this… what happened here?’

Will didn’t respond. 

“... did you do this to yourself?” Nico asked. 

Will closed his eyes. “... I’m sorry, Nico. I’m sorry.”

Nico gently leaned forwards and rested his head on Will’s chest, careful not to disturb any burns that may have been there. “... Please be careful with yourself. We need you here.  _ I _ need you here.” Nico was surprised at the sappy words springing from his lips, but felt no real desire to stop. 

“I’m sorry,” Will whispered. His voice was shaky. “I really am.” 

“Please stop doing this. Look, you’ve got blisters. Will, that has to hurt so much,” Nico rambled, squeezing Will’s hands. He released his hands and reached for the first-aid kit at Will’s belt. He unclipped the carabiner holding it in place, opened it, and pulled out a small jar of aloe vera and an ambrosia square, “Here, eat this. It’ll make the burns feel better.”

Will nodded and took it, his hands shaking badly. He put the square in his mouth carefully, but couldn’t taste it at all. His nose was too clogged. He flinched as Nico touched aloe-vera covered fingertips to his burned and tender skin, then relaxed as Nico rubbed the pain away. 

Nico paused after finishing with the aloe cream. “... do Austin and Kayla know about this?”

Will shook his head. “... No. No. I… I don’t take off my sweatshirts much, and when I do, I just say that I got the burns on the climbing wall. They’ve never questioned it.”

Nico sighed. “... Apollo kids are so trusting. But… didn’t they notice your tell?”

“Oh, the sneeze? Yeah, but… they never… I don’t know why they believed me. I don’t.” His voice trailed off to a miserable squeak.

“... It’s okay. Why were you worried about telling them the truth? Is it just shame, or…?”

“Yeah. I just… didn’t want them to… I’m Cabin Leader. I’m not supposed to have meltdowns. I’m supposed to help them when  _ they _ have meltdowns. I did  _ this _ so I wouldn’t break in front of them.”

Nico looked down. “... Come to me.”

“Pardon?” 

“Come to me. I know I’m not soft like you or good with feelings but please come to me. You know where I am when I’m not with you. Just come to me when you feel that way. We can sit behind the Hades cabin together so we don’t break any rules. You don’t even have to say anything or tell me why you’re upset. We can just sit together.” Gods, why was Nico suddenly so sappy? It was like Will brought it out of him. 

Will looked shyly into Nico’s eyes, his ears pink. “... Thanks for the offer.”

Nico cocked his head and gave a small smile. “... Is that all you can say? ‘Thanks for the offer’?”

Will’s blush deepened. “... I really don’t know what else to say besides thank you so much.”

Nico gave a small chuckle. “Okay, dorkus. You don’t have to say anything.”

Nico’s laugh, soft, even and kind, made Will feel warm inside. “Okay. I won’t say anything.”

Nico nodded. “... I hate to ask you this, but will you please rub my leg a little more? It still kind of hurts…”

Will nodded and made a weak attempt at a smile. “Of course.”

Nico extended his leg to the older boy and Will took it gently. “Thank you so much.”

Will nodded. “Of course.”

There was a pause. Nico sighed and shook his head. “... I don’t think you should use your pain-carrying powers on me anymore.”

Will’s eyebrows crinkled. “Why not?”

“It hurts you too much. I can deal with my own pain. You cannot.”

Will looked down. “... I… I need to. I can’t see you hurt. I can’t.”

Nico paused. “... Why not?”

“Because I love you, that’s why.”

_ “How?” _ The word burst out before Nico could stop it.

“... I don’t know where love comes from. I just know that I feel it for you.”

Nico nodded. “... I understand that, but why would you ever love someone like  _ me _ ? I’m repulsive!” Tears welled in his eyes as he looked at Will, clenching his fists.

Will stopped rubbing. “... You are  _ not _ repulsive. You are beautiful. Your surname fits you perfectly. You’re very… ethereal looking, I suppose that would be the right word. I’m so, so in love with you, your eyes most of all, but the rest of you too. Here…” Will ran his hand softly over Nico’s leg, his calf muscle and thigh. “Here…” The hand traveled to his cheek and through his hair. “... and here especially.” He moved his hand from Nico’s cheek to his budding bicep and rubbed his thumb on the flesh. “Beautiful.”

Nico didn’t know what to say. “... My eyes? What about my eyes? Why are they so beautiful? They’re just brown.”

“They’re not ‘just brown.’ They’re… oh, gods, I don’t even have the words to describe them. They’re too perfect to describe. You really are an angel, Nico.”

Nico blushed. “... Uhm. You too,”

Will laughed, a sweet, pure sound. “Alright, you wonderfully awkward dork, you. Just know that you aren’t all the terrible things you think you are, okay?”

Nico nodded, a small squeak escaping his throat. 

“Here, it’s fine. Take a breath, okay? You’re looking flustered as hell.”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t be flustered if you hadn’t flustered me!” Nico stuttered. 

Will smiled soothingly. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to make you feel better. It’s been… it’s been an emotional ten minutes for both of us.”

“That’s an understatement,” Nico muttered. 

Will nodded and rubbed Nico’s calf some more. He met Nico’s eyes and flashed a sweet smile. “Well, it’s a good thing we have each other, right?”

A thin smile crossed Nico’s face. “Yeah, that’s a really good thing.” He looked around at the peaceful scene in the cabin. Nothing out of place anywhere. “... I’m glad we’re together.”

“Me too.”


	4. Clarisse x Chris- Clarisse's Knives (EDGY VERSION)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarisse has been having some trouble ever since Silena died. Self harm warning. First warning in the drabble doc! Woo!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry in advance for this.

Clarisse stole out of the Ares cabin, her breaths coming quick. The points on the box she held close to her chest dug into her arms. Her armor shielded her chest. The cloak she wore shielded the box from prying eyes as she ran across camp. The sun was going down. Scattered demigods watched the sunset. For a second, she thought that she saw Silena and Beckendorf among them. 

Then she remembered.

She made her way into the Big House. Mr. D was sitting in the front room playing Solitaire and drinking a Diet Coke. “Heya, Caroline.”

“Hey, Denny’s,” Clarisse responded. 

Mr. D muttered something she couldn’t hear. She didn’t bother trying to figure out what it was. She made her way down to the basement, quietly slipping down the stairs and closing the door behind her.

“Chris?” she called.

No answer.

“Thank gods,” she muttered. She sat down on a large wooden crate and put the ornate box she’d been carrying in her lap. “Love that boy… but donwanna see him right now.”

She opened the box and moved the red bandanna that covered its contents. She pulled a small fish-gutting knife from the box and held it for a moment, examining it. It was a beautiful thing. The blade wasn’t as long as normal, making it really not very good for its intended purpose, but she loved it just the same. She’d made it a sheath of its own, and she almost never did that for knives that weren’t genuine Celestial bronze. 

She turned it over in her hands. Her own initials, monogrammed by hand, glinted back at her in shimmering gold over the apple-wood handle. A tiny tag still hung off the handle-hole.  _ To Clarisse. You said no flowers, no jewelry and nothing that would break, scratch, die, tarnish or wilt. From your favorite trickster with sincerest love. _

She smiled. She remembered how nervous Chris had looked presenting that knife. It had been about a year ago. It had been his way of asking forgiveness for the whole incident in the Labyrinth. She hadn’t meant to forgive him as quickly as she had that day, but his face had looked so sad and gentle that she couldn’t help herself. She had forgiven him instantly.

She traced the lines of her palm and wrist with the tip of the knife. The knife traced over her wrists, down the blue seam of the vein, not enough to pierce but gods, she felt it there. She pulled the knife away, realizing then that she was shivering. Why? Why was she so cold? She cursed her body, that weak, trembling, effeminate thing that wouldn’t ever be as strong or well-trained as she needed. Fuck, why was she so cold?

Clarisse took a deep breath and drew her cloak tighter around herself. Why were her eyes so hot when she was so cold? She opened her mouth and a strange high-pitched sound escaped her mouth. Was she about to cry? No, she couldn’t cry. Clarisse didn’t cry. No one made Clarisse La Rue cry. 

Clarisse unwrapped her cloak and took off her breastplate, pauldrons and bracers. The chill shot through her like a thousand arrows. She gritted her teeth and pulled up her shirt, holding it with her chin. She pushed her bra down slightly and used her free hand to touch the knife to her chest. She pushed down, letting the blood run down her chest into her cheap sports bra. She trembled like a child, hiccuping as she tried to stifle more sobs. 

_ CLARISSE DOESN’T CRY SHE DOESN’T CRY CLARISSE LA RUE DRAKON SLAYER DOESN’T CRY _

She lashed the tip of the knife over the other breast, watching the blood well up in little rubies over her scarred tan skin. She blinked hard and forced her throat and chest to relax, her teeth to open, her heart to harden, somehow, even more. 

_ CLARISSE. LA. RUE. DOES. NOT. CRY. _

“You know,” came a soft voice from in front of her. “This isn’t really what I intended when I gave you that knife.”

“Get out,” Clarisse managed. She’d intended for it to be growled, but it came out shaky and sad. 

“You don’t mean that,” Chris murmured, kneeling in front of her and pulling out some Kleenex. “Here. I want you to clean those cuts up and put your shirt and bra back on right.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. No one tells Clarisse La Rue what to do.” Clarisse hung her head. All of the normal fight had bled out of her and she was weak and shaky as a child.

“My apologies. I thought you may not want to ruin your clothes.”

“I don’t care.” Clarisse could feel Chris’s eyes boring into her. “I don’t.”

“... Well, will you just… do it for me? Because… it hurts to see… to see you like this. And I know… I know if Silena was here, she’d be hurting too.”

The burn, the ache, the chill hit her full force again.  _ CLARISSEDOESNOTCRY _

She felt him loop his arms around her, warm and safe. She dizzily nested her face in his shoulder. “... I’m sorry. I hurt you.”

“It’s not about me,” Chris whispered. “Please understand that.”

Clarisse huddled against him. Her mind drifted to childhood, to curling up in a seven-year-old Chris’s arms after her grandmother had swatted her or her mom had done something far worse. She pressed her lips to his neck, a trembling, open-mouthed kiss that left a small print of saliva behind. 

He kissed her head and traced his hands over her back. “I love you, okay? Will you please clean yourself up?”

Clarisse tore herself violently out of his arms and put her shirt and bra on right. Her blood seeped through both. “Happy now?”

Chris traced her with his eyes. “... Barely.”

Clarisse pressed herself back against him. Her eyes stung. 

Chris held her. “Hey. I know it hurts, but… you’re not alone. I promise. I’m here for you.” He kissed her forehead before setting his chin on her head. “I love you, okay?”

Clarisse shook her head.

“Do you not believe me?”

“Chris, I…” She took a deep breath. Her voice was trembling. “I  _ am _ alone. I always have been. It’s been me and you and no one else, ever, until  _ she _ came along, but now she’s dead and I…” She heaved another sigh. “And now I’m alone again. The only time I’ve been more alone was when… was when you were gone.”

Chris squoze her. “... I’m gonna stay with you, okay? I’m not leaving you again. I promise.”

Clarisse met his eyes. She was trembling. Something ached in her core. Her vision was watery.  _ CLARISSE YOU IDIOT BITCH HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN YOUR OWN RULES? _ “Thank you, Chris, I… I don’t know what to say.” 

Chris gently eased his hand up and down her back. “That’s okay.” 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Chris rubbed her back and looked up at the ceiling, trying to find the right words to comfort her. “It’s okay. Even… even tough girls fall sometimes. Hurt sometimes. Cry sometimes. It’s okay.”

Clarisse’s chest was tight. Her lip trembled. 

“I want you to let it out.  _ She _ would want you to let it out.”

That was it. Clarisse’s dam burst. The tears rained down into Chris’s collar. A wail broke from her throat. Her chest filled with despair and it bled from her eyes, her nose, her throat. Her tongue dripped it. She choked on it. She clung to Chris like she was dying in a desert and he was the only source of water, a salvation, the last chopper out of Vietnam. 

And he, in return, held her tighter than the despair ever could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if she was OOC here.  
> Also, on the mention of Clarisse's mom....  
> Let's just say that the Clarisses of this world don't make themselves.


	5. Non-shippy-"[being a friend] is more difficult than giving spearfighting lessons"

Chiron sat in his wheelchair, nursing a pounding headache. “What’s wrong?” came a soft female voice.

“Silena,” he groaned. “We’re in some trouble.”

“What kind?” she asked, sitting on the sofa next to him and rubbing his shoulder. 

“I think… I think we’ve underestimated the Titan threat.”

“I didn’t know that was possible.”

“It is. And… I’m worried about Clarisse, too.”

“Her in particular?” Silena asked.

“Yes. She’s killing herself for this boy. I almost want to… the way he is, I just…”

“... want to put him out of his misery?” Silena suggested.

Chiron nodded. “But I can’t, because then Clarisse would kill  _ me.” _

Silena nodded. There was a pause as she rubbed his back. “... Would you like me to check on her?”

Chiron shrugged. “... Go ahead. If you can make any dent in her misery, that would be excellent.”

Silena stood up and brushed her bleached-blonde hair out of her eyes. “Okay. I’ll…” She took a deep breath. “... I’ll see what I can do. Where is she?”

“In the basement. With Chris.”

Silena slipped down the basement stairs. Her heart was pounding. The basement was darker than midnight. The only light in the whole room was coming from the door. She paused for a moment and listened. She heard a faint sound—breathing? panting? Crying?—and turned towards it. “Clarisse? Are you here?”

“Fuck off,” came the growl. It didn’t sound quite right. 

Silena rounded a stack of boxes. “Clarisse, why… oh my gods, what’s wrong?” Clarisse was leaning heavily against a corner wall. Her head was in her hands. Chris was curled up in a sleeping bag next to her. He appeared to be asleep. 

“I said fuck off. I have a triple twisted blade dagger. I’ll take out your heart.”

Silena knelt in front of her. “Clarisse, we’re worried about you. You’re killing yourself for Chris and… we’re worried about you.”

Clarisse looked up. Silena could see tears glinting on her cheeks in the dim light. “You don’t understand.”

Silena sat crosslegged in front of her and took one of her large, scarred, callused hands in her own small, smooth, graceful ones. “I’m a daughter of Aphrodite. I think I could if you would explain it to me.”

“Chiron doesn’t understand either. No one does,” Clarisse muttered bitterly.

Silena studied her face. Another tear dripped down her cheek. “... You loved him,” she guessed. 

“I’ve never loved anybody. All that shit does is make you weak.”

“But you did. I can see it in your eyes. You wouldn’t be doing all of this if you didn’t love him. I mean, how far have you even been going for him?”

“... I have to take him to the bathroom. Physically show him where the toilet is. He doesn’t know if I don’t. I had to bathe him today. He can’t do it on his own. I tried to have him do it himself one time and he almost drowned in the bathtub because… I don’t know why. He doesn’t know who I am. He calls me Mary.” Her voice broke. “I don’t know if that name ever had any significance to anyone. He doesn’t… he doesn’t even know where he is. He thinks… he thinks he’s still in the Labyrinth.”

Silena brushed tears off her cheek with a gentle thumb. “... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, honey. You shouldn’t have to go through that. Neither of you should.”

Clarisse leaned into Silena’s hands. “You’re right.”

“Life is unfair,” Silena murmured. “Life is so unfair.”

“You were right. I loved him,” Clarisse whispered. “I still do. I still love him.”

Silena moved closer, pulling Clarisse almost into her lap and holding her tight. She leaned Clarisse’s head into her shoulder, rubbing her back. “Oh, honey. Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”

Clarisse buried her head in her shoulder. Silena felt cool tears drip onto her neck. “What am I gonna do, Sil?” Clarisse sobbed. “What am I gonna do?”

“I don’t know, Risse,” Silena murmured. “Just… keep doing what you’re doing and… we’ll talk to Mr. D about it when he gets back. He’s the god of madness. He might have some ideas.”

Clarisse sniffled but didn’t move off Silena’s shoulder. “... Thank you.”

Silena gently rocked her back and forth. “It’s no problem, honey.”

Clarisse wiped her face. She met Silena’s eyes. “... I owe you one. Seriously.” Her voice trembled. “Do you need a… a personal trainer or something? Personal spearfighting lessons?”

“I’ve always been more interested in magic, honestly. But I could use a friend. Someone who doesn’t want to screw me.”

“... That’s more difficult than giving spearfighting lessons.”

Silena laughed. “I know, but… I think it could work. Aphrodite and Ares have always gone well together.”

Clarisse nodded. 

Silena patted her back. “How about we go clean you up? Your face is all blotchy. Or do you need to cry more first?”

Clarisse moved away, sitting up. “... I think I’m okay. Chris is asleep, so… yeah. I can leave him for a few. I think it’ll be okay.”

Silena put an arm around her and helped her up. “Okay. Let’s go get you feeling better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday I swear I'll write something that'll earn actual kudos on this doc.   
> AKA something actually good.  
> Am I fishing for compliments? I can't tell.


	6. Non-shippy- "Clarisse, you start fifty percent of the fights around here"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarisse La Rue is a troubled girl. Gleeson Hedge is a good teacher.

Someone knocked on the door of Gleeson Hedge’s office. He was working in a shitty middle school near Phoenix, Arizona as one of two gym teachers. He had earned the dubious title of the only one who reliably showed up, despite the fact that he was out maybe a day or two a week for satyr-related business. 

But no one but him seemed to know. 

“Come in!” he called. He was convinced that it was just his boss, asking him to cover some shift for someone or bitching him out for being late with his grades.

A girl with reddish-brown hair opened the door. “Coach Hedge?”

Hedge grinned. “Clarisse! You’re back!”

“Yeah. Fuck did you get me suspended for?”

“Clarisse, you… you do realize you broke her nose, right? She had to go to the hospital.”

Clarisse paused. “... Noses heal. It’s not like I did any irreversible damage.”

Hedge scanned her face. “... I’d love to know what your world looks like.”

“Shitty. Anyway…” Clarisse looked around. “What’d I miss? Any interesting fights?”

“Clarisse, you’ve started fifty percent of the fights so far this year. Of course there weren’t any fights with you gone.” Hedge shook his head. “And I can excuse you from any assignments. You didn’t really miss any.”

Clarisse nodded. She kicked her feet. “Good.”

There was a pause. “... Are there any other reasons you wanted to see me?”

Clarisse didn’t respond. Hedge thought she looked nauseous. “... Uh… can I stay here a while?”

“... Sure? Can I know why?”

Clarisse kicked her feet harder. Hedge studied her face. She looked like she was about to cry. “... Uh… yeah. Things have kind of gone to hell in a handbasket at home. Can I hang around for an hour or so?”

“Will things be better after that hour? Should I call CPS?”

“No! No, fuck no. Not even worth your time,” Clarisse lied. “Just… in an hour or so the problem should be sorted and I can go home.”

“Do you mind telling me what the problem is?” Hedge asked, putting on his gentlest voice. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Hedge nodded. “... Okay. I won’t pry. Not now, anyway.”

Clarisse nodded. “Thanks.” She put her head down on Hedge’s desk and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s no problem,” Hedge nodded. “Stay as long as you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... yeah. This one got a little weird. Plotless too, my apologies. Hopefully the next one will be better put together. But honestly, I just didn't have any better ideas.  
> Also, I'm 100% on board with the HC that Gleeson Hedge was Clarisse's satyr. Their personalities are so compatible.


	7. Implied Mitchell x Clovis- "Mom? Cream? Sugar? No, the door."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was born from my want to write something with Clovis in it.  
> Takes place… I guess after BOO. Not long after. It’s canon Mitchell was in boarding school with Lacy and Sadie Kane at some point, but idk how long he spent there. It's also not canon when KC takes place in relation to PJO/HOO/TOA. In other words, we only have a vague idea of how old Mitchell actually is.

Clovis sighed and stirred as he woke. His neck was stiff and full of pain. His buttocks had gone numb and achy, a stark contrast to his legs, which were only numb. Damn him. He’d fallen asleep in his recliner sitting up. 

He kicked his feet, trying to get some feeling in them before he stood up to go to his bunk. His head hurt. His eyes felt like they had dried out. Gods. He needed a drink of water, he decided.

He stood up. His legs felt like Jello. He wobbled to the bathroom and held his hands under the water, collecting it in his hands. His throat felt like it was full of dust, caked and dry. His mouth filled with a sweet taste as he drank. It felt like his first sip in years, washing all the dust and crust out of his mouth and letting it settle in his tummy where it belonged.

He looked around. Looking through the bathroom window, he could see it was dark. Gods. It had to be the middle of the night. He groaned. He missed his bed. He felt hot and sweaty and sleepy, and he longed for the cool sheets on his skin. He crawled out of the bathroom and flopped bonelessly into his bunk.  _ Aaah. I’m never gonna tire of that feeling.  _ All of the aches disappeared. It felt like he was floating. He’d have to remember to give Annabeth a couple drachma in exchange for giving the Hypnos cabin such lovely mattresses. 

In the pleasure of his body, his mind let go and his thoughts floated. He wondered what tomorrow’s breakfast would be. Maybe it would involve donuts. And coffee. With lots of cream. More cream than coffee.  _ In fact, I could drink a whole thing of cream. Cream and sugar. Mmm. Put some mocha in that, Mom…  _

Someone knocked on the door. He jolted.  _ Mom? Cream? Sugar? No, the door. _ He groaned and stood up, stumbling to the door. He opened it, leaning heavily on the doorframe. “Whoozit?”

A small figure stood on the other side. His tee shirt came almost to his knees. “Oh… I’m… I’m sorry.” He backed up.

“Mitchell?” Clovis groaned. “Why are you here?”

Mitchell shifted. “I… I can’t sleep. I… I don’t know what to do. I asked the others and they told me to come here.”

Clovis scanned him. In the dim light, his dark eyes turned into pools of ink. Clovis could see vague shadows under them. He wasn’t lying about being sleep deprived. “Come in.”

Mitchell shuffled in. He looked around. The Lethe-drip glimmered. Clovis saw Mitchell’s cheeks pale. “What…”

“Just a trickle of Lethe-water. Don’t drink it. Or touch it. Otherwise you’re fine. Here, lie down in this bed here.” Clovis gestured to a nearby bed. 

Mitchell curled up in the fetal position on top of the sheets. 

Clovis sat next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Here, make yourself real comfortable. You’re our guest tonight. Okay?”

Mitchell nodded. “Okay.” He pulled back the sheets and curled up tight underneath them. The comforter obscured his tiny form completely, leaving only a round little lump with a head of silky shaggy hair. 

“Good, good. You comfortable?”

“Yeah.” Mitchell’s voice was muffled.

“Good.” Clovis began to rub his back gently with one hand. “May I start?”

“Start what?” Mitchell asked, his eyes closed. 

“Putting you to sleep.”

Mitchell nodded. “... Okay.”

Clovis nodded. “Okay. Keep your breathing even, okay? Don’t hold your breath or breathe too shallow.”

“Yes, sir,” Mitchell mumbled. 

Clovis grinned. “And let go of some of that boarding school BS. You graduated there last year. Okay?” Mitchell had recently graduated out of middle school. He'd been in some boarding school in Brooklyn. It was a little on the rocks as to where he’d go in the coming year. 

“Yes, Clovis.”

“Okay,” Clovis sighed. He ran his hand over Mitchell’s bony shoulder and back some more. He took a deep breath and began to hum softly, his voice cracking with tiredness. The melody was some old Hypnos-magic stuff, soft and warm and easy on the ears. 

Mitchell sighed gently. Clovis’s voice was like honey, it ran slow and gentle into his ears and dripped to his heart, melting all the tension in his chest. He hadn’t even realized it was there. It wrapped his legs, his arms, immobilizing them. Making his head and eyelids feel heavy. Making his heart feel warm and sticky. He let his eyes close and he melted into the mattress.

Clovis yawned as he finished the song. He blinked and looked down at Mitchell. “Mitchell?” he whispered. 

No response. Clovis heard him snoring softly. He laughed gently and climbed back into his own bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

When Clovis awoke, a long time later, he saw that Mitchell was gone. A small slip of pastel purple paper lay on his pillow next to him, folded and sealed with a little heart-shaped sticker. He sat up, stretching and twisting out the cricks from his spine before opening the note. 

_ Dear Clovis, _

_ Thank you so much for your gracious service last night. I don’t think I would have slept at all if you hadn’t helped. _

_ Look, I owe you one. I don’t know if you need this sort of advice but if you ever need advice with romance, I’ll be your man. I don’t care who or what I’m winging for you, but it’ll be worth it to me. _

_ Love and kisses, _

_ Mitchell _

Clovis laughed sleepily. Was this all it took to get an Aphrodite kid to like you? 

Maybe he’d consider dating one of their kind someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I start saying in the tags which chapter which tag is in? I mean like "Lullabies-Chapter 8" type stuff. 
> 
> Feel free to leave feedback if you think that would be a good idea. Or if you think it blows dog's bollocks. Whichever one.


	8. Non-shippy- Nico's Birthday Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this at school on my phone, so I'm sorry if the formatting is a little fucked.  
> Oh yeah, and Nico has a cat here. His name is Gremlin.

Nico was lying on his bed in the Hades cabin stroking his cat Gremlin behind the ears when there was a knock on the door. Raising his tangled head from the bed and laying Gremmy gently upon the pillow, he walked across the cabin and opened the door. “What do you want, Sola- oh, dear, I’m sorry. Do you need something, miss?” 

An elderly lady was standing on the other side of the door with a weasel, a potbellied pig on a leash and a handbag that was half the size of Halley’s Comet. She looked up at Nico- he was _taller_ than her, wow- with unusually bright violet eyes and a slight scowl. “Hades’s son. Yeah. Your dad asked me to bring you this. King dead-boy was too lazy to bring you this himself, so-” At that moment, the ground rumbled and a skeleton came up and jabbed the old lady between her shoulder blades. “Ow! Geez, okay, I’m sorry! Anyway, your father was too busy with stuff to come deliver this in person, but happy sixteenth birthday.” 

She extended a package wrapped in skull wrapping paper to him and he took it cautiously. “...Thanks,” he said. _Is it my birthday? Oh yeah… it is. It’s my sixteenth birthday. Damn. Surprised Will hasn’t busted in with a cake yet._ “Also, I’m so, so sorry for having to ask this but…”

“Lady Hecate. Don’t you dare forget it.”

“My lady, yes. Sincerest apologies. I see where Lou Ellen Blackstone gets it now,” Nico commented drily.

“Lou Elle- oh, yeah. Number five, the… was she the one with pig powers, green hair and an asshole father or was she the one who ran away to become a Huntress, has some powers over shadow-travel and had to hodooken her way out of jail that one time?”

“Uh… I don’t know about the terrible dad but I think the first one,” Nico said warily.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, that one. Yeah, she’s got some spirit to her. Kind of makes up for the fact that we were on opposite sides in the Titan War. Anyway, back to why I’m here. Your dad wants me to give you this birthday present. Privately, I picked your fourteenth year as the year you would die, so I lost the Underworld Gods’ betting pool, but no matter. It was only five drachma anyway.”

“Wait, you guys had a betting pool for when I would die?” Nico asked incredulously. 

“Well, your father didn’t participate, but yes. I bet fourteen, Hypnos bet thirteen, Charon originally bet twelve or thirteen and then changed it to seventeen after you recovered from Tartarus with the skill that you did-congrats, by the way. Not everyone can do that. Anyway, Charon’s a cheater, so I don’t know. Thanatos was really convinced you would die in Tartarus but then it didn’t happen- he was never called- so his final guess was between fifteen and thirty, the nonspecific goon. Finally, Persephone said “as soon as possible, preferably, but my final answer is twenty,’” Hecate cackled. “Good fun, good fun. Have you never done anything like that, like you had a sick gerbil or something and you and a few friends were guessing on when it would finally pass on? It’s great fun.”

“Um… no. I’ve never owned a gerbil period, much less a sick one. And if I had a sick gerbil, I might try and get it medical treatment instead of taking bets on when it would die. But hey, to each their own,” Nico replied. 

“Yes, to each their own. Anyway, I gave you your present, so I am going to quickly check on my cabin and then go retire to my cave. Good job making it this far, and good luck making it to seventeen.” With that, the goddess disappeared into thin air, leaving Nico alone on the step of the Hades cabin with a gift box in his hands.

He retreated back into his cabin and sat down on his bed again. “Well, Gremmy, would you like to see what’s in the box? It frightens me, to be honest with you, kitty.”

“Meow,” said Gremlin.

“I’m glad,” Nico replied. “Because I’m curious.” He tore off the paper and opened the box to reveal a shiny silver object. It looked like a wine glass, but silver, and it had a little skull engraved on it with little gems- diamonds?- in the eyes. The stem of it was a- worryingly small- human radius and ulna. Nico raised his eyebrows. This was unusual for a god. They usually didn’t give presents.

Nico hesitantly put the glass on the table by his bed, looking at it suspiciously. He lay back down on his bed, picked up the GameBoy Will had gotten him for his last birthday and resumed playing Tetris. Gremlin resettled himself on Nico’s chest, kneading his coat gently. Nico sighed and relaxed again. At least the rest of his birthday would be god-free.

Unfortunately, the son of Hades’ peace would not last long. Another knock on the door happened a moment later, and this time, it was the daughter and not the mom. “What do you need, Lou?”

“Did… I know this is a really weird question but did my mother come through here?”

Nico nodded. “Yeah, she did. I have something I’d like to show you, by the way.”

“Sure. I got all day. Can I come in?” Lou asked, shrugging.

“Oh, of course.” Nico escorted her in and sat her on the edge of his bed. “Here it is.”

Lou gently rolled the cup in her hands. “Beautiful object. Where’d you get it?”

“Your mom dropped it off. She said my father had asked her to deliver it for my-my birthday.”

“Oh, happy birthday! I didn’t know it was today. Ten drachma and I won’t tell Cecil.”

“What’s so bad about you telling Cecil about my birthday?” Nico asked.

“Oh, he does this thing called ‘birthday punches’...”

“Never mind, I understand. Here’s the money.” 

Lou took the money and pocketed it. “Thanks, di Angelo.” She manhandled the goblet a little more, stroking the skull as she stood up and relocated to the black couch in the corner, lying down and throwing her leg over the back. “You know, I saw something like this once. It had some magic to it,”

“Oh, really? Where?” Nico asked.

“Dining pavilion. Those goblets we get at dinner that magically refill themselves,” Lou responded. “Here, let’s try it. Hey, Cuphead, may I have some water, please?”

Nico picked up his cat and paced the room. “Anything?”

“Yeah, it’s full! Dude, it’s full of water! Okay, glassboy, please make the water go away so we can test some things, okay?”

The water disappeared. “Okay… apple juice,” Nico suggested. 

The glass filled with apple juice. Lou dispersed it. 

“Chocolate milk?” Nico tried again.

“Here it is!” Lou replied, holding it up with sarcastic triumph. “One cup of delicious chocolate milk.” She rolled her eyes at the whole affair.

“... How about some coffee?” 

“Here’s your cup of Joe. Can we try some less loserish things now?” Lou asked, sounding extremely bored.

“What are the less loserish options?” Nico asked, slightly offended.’

“Here, let’s try. Can I get some vodka?” Lou asked. “... okay, that’s about one shot’s worth. I guess this cup endorses drinking in moderation.”

“Well, that’s a good thing,” Nico tried.

“You know, my dad always said that shotglasses were just the middleman between the bottle and the mouth. He also said always cut out the middleman.”

“Your father’s wisdom is questionable.”

Lou nodded. “Quite possibly. Anyway, let’s try something else. Is it limited to drinks, or any liquids? Here, let’s try… Bleach. Okay, cup full of bleach. Actually, wait. That’s not a fair test, people drink bleach all the time. Pure THC oil?”

“What’s THC oil?” Nico asked.

“It’s the stuff in weed that makes you high, I think. And now I have a little bit in a glass. I guess this cup advertises using weed in moderation as well.”

“You better not drink that,” Nico said. 

“Fine, whatever. I’ll say something else. Dammit, all I have for drinks are nonexamples… Hey… what if… Daddy Will Solace’s sweet cummies.”

“What the _hell?”_ Nico exploded. 

“Okay, that’s about one dick’s worth. Not sure what I expected.”

“What the hell is _wrong_ with you?” Nico yelled, burying his face in his hands. 

“Let me guess, I’m a classless skank?” Lou suggested. 

“I mean… I wasn’t about to say that in so many words, but yes!”

She laughed. "Yeah, I'm aware. I also don't care."

Nico shook his head. Not for the first time, he regretted his choice in friends. "Please leave me alone." 

"You want me out of here?" Lou asked.

"Yes." 

"Fine." Lou stuck out her tongue. "Then I'll go."

And so she left, leaving Nico alone once more.

  
  



	9. Percabeth- "Can I Ever Get You Anything?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy gets insecure in relationships. Annabeth reassures him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little backstory. It's Percy's eighteenth birthday. Annabeth didn't exactly have the money for a material present, so she gave him a "special present." ;) ;) ;)  
> ... Um, anyway. This is a bit of the post-sex conversation.

“... I’m sorry,” Percy murmured. He was lying in his bed in his mom’s apartment, Annabeth curled up in his arms. 

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Annabeth asked, putting her hand over his.

“I just feel bad. Because… you said you could eventually give me better presents, once you got money of your own, but…”

“You doubt my abilities? You think the road ahead is too long and hard? Because if you do, that’s my problem, not yours. And I can handle it.”

“I know. I was thinking that… just… will I ever be able to give  _ you _ anything? Anything at all? For any of your birthdays?” Percy asked, mumbling into her soft curls as they tickled his lips and neck. 

Annabeth pulled away from him, rolling to face him. Her grey eyes sparkled. “Don’t worry about that, Percy, really. You’ve already given me everything I could ever want. Trust me, Percy, you don’t have to worry about gift-giving.”

Percy studied her face. She looked soft and kind. “... Are you sure?”

“Yes, Percy.”

“But… I’ve barely given you anything ever aside from that necklace,” Percy said, gently stroking his fingertips over her neck and the necklace. 

Annabeth shivered. “No, Percy. You’ve given me more than that. Percy…” She swallowed. A flash of pain crossed her eyes.

Percy put his arm around her. He kissed her forehead. 

Annabeth closed her eyes. “Percy, you cared about me when no one else did. That’s why… that’s why I started crying when… when…” Her eyes watered. 

Percy thumbed tears out of her eyes. “When?”

“... when we were in the bubble the first time. In the Sea of Monsters. Because… all those other people, the ones I wanted to care about me so badly… they didn’t care. None of them cared. Not as much as you.”

Percy didn’t know what to say. He nested her head against his chest, stroking her hair gently. “... I’m sorry.”  _ Luke cared about you. Luke cared about  _ only _ you.  _

Annabeth nuzzled his bare chest. He smelled like the sea. “... It’s not your fault.”

“... Thanks.”

Annabeth looked up and smiled. She connected her lips to his. Percy closed his eyes and let the kisses warm him. Her lips were slightly chapped. Somehow that was even more stimulating to him. “I love you, Seaweed Brain,” she murmured.

Percy sighed. “... Thanks, I… I love you too,” he stammered.

Annabeth giggled and pecked his cheek. She felt warm inside. Soft. “Two years today. And every time I tell you I love you, you blush and stutter and stammer and shake in your boots.”

Percy held her. “... I’m sorry, Wise Girl. I… I promise I’ll get better.”

Annabeth smiled up at him. “... No, I… it’s cute.”

Percy’s face burned. “... Thanks.”

“Always welcome.” Annabeth curled her arms around him and held him, stroking his hair. 

Percy sighed and melted into her. “... Thank you. That… that feels good.”

“You’re welcome, Perce.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it took me this long to write a Percabeth drabble. Maybe I'll try to find one of my old ones to post. See if it's decent. Or try to make it decent.  
> Anyway, Percabeth was my favorite ship ever when I read PJO for the first time about six or seven years ago (trust me, it's a big amount of time when you realize it's about a third of my life). I'm pleased to amount that years later it's still one of my favorite ships of all time. And the most well-executed.


	10. Non-shippy- Counselor's Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote out an average head counselor's meeting at CHB. Except the Romans are there too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just by the way, this meeting takes place VERY shortly after TOA. Meaning that it's not long since Nico learned that Reyna joined the Huntresses. Also, I HC that Hazel learns that Nico's gay on, like, the same day that Nico learned that Reyna left. It was kind of an emotional day. I haven't written it yet mainly out of laziness, honestly. Maybe I'll do it someday, though.  
> Sorry for the diary entry. Just thought it was important to know.  
> EDIT: I finally wrote that day! The fic's called "Blinded" and it's not here because... well... it's just a tiny tiny bit too long. Anyway, the first chapter's up now. Next one'll be up soon.  
> EDIT EDIT: "Blinded" is now complete! Unless I have any more ideas, of course.

“... So,” Frank sighed. “Now that Percy finally made it, can we start this meeting now?”

Percy groaned. It was time for the annual cabin leader’s meeting, except this time the Romans were in town, so Frank and Hazel were there too. Percy had stumbled in late half-asleep after Annabeth dragged him in. 

“Does he need, like… I have some adrenaline shots in the infirmary. Is he so bad he needs that?” Will Solace asked. He was sitting between Nico di Angelo and a violet-eyed girl Hazel didn’t recognize.

_ Honestly, _ Hazel thought,  _ I only remember that boy because of what I found out last night. Oh, gods, Nico. I so hope he’s feeling better. _

“No, don’t bother with that,” Annabeth dismissed. “He isn’t that bad. Just let him chug some more cola and he’ll be fine.”

Percy groaned again and chugged some more cola. 

“In the meantime, should we do some introductions? Because the Romans are here?” Annabeth asked.

There were general nods and murmurs of agreement. 

“... Okay. I’ll go first. Uh… yeah. I’m Annabeth, but you knew that already. Head counselor of Athena and that. Helped defeat Kronos on Olympus. Was a member of the prophesized Seven. Dragged his ass through Tartarus.” She pointed a diffident thumb at Percy. “And speaking of him, he’s Percy Jackson, you all know him, I’m not gonna do an introduction for him. And… let’s just go in a clockwise rotation because if we were going in Olympian order then we would have had to start with…” Annabeth started. “... Percy.”

“Mm?” Percy grunted. 

“Don’t worry about it, Seaweed Brain. Anyway… next is you, Butch.”

He stretched. “... Head counselor of Iris. Um… I fought through the battle with Gaia. Uh…” He chuckled. “... That’s about it. I don’t… I don’t have as much of an impressive sheet as some of the others.”

“That’s okay,” dismissed the girl sitting next to him. Actually, two girls were sharing one seat. “Anyway, I’m Laur-”

“I’m Holly!” interrupted the other girl.

“I’m  _ Laurel,”  _ Girl #1 insisted. “And we’re the head co-counselors of Nike-”

“It’s really more sixty-forty,” Holly said. 

“-And  _ I’m _ the sixty percent.”

“No, me. Anyway, we fought through-” Holly started

“-The battle with Gaia,” Laurel finished.

“That’s enough,” Annabeth broke in. “Let’s move on. Chiara?”

“Chiara,” a dark-haired girl agreed. “Head counselor of Tyche. Granted, I’m the only one there, but…”

“Still counts,” Annabeth broke in. 

“I guess. Anyway… I’m yet another Gaia-war veteran. And…” Chiara took inventory on her fingers. “... That’s it. Damien?” she prodded, poking the boy sitting next to her on the shoulder. He was slouched down in a crappy old chair with a baseball cap pulled over his face.

“Mhm?” the boy-Damien?- responded. “Oh, oh, yeah. I’m Damien. Uh. Head of Nemesis, I’ll fight your battles for you, uh… fought through the war with Gaia  _ and _ the Battle of Manhattan.  _ And _ the Battle of the Labyrinth.” He yawned. “... Your turn, Sherman.”

Sherman looked down from where he was staring at the ceiling. “Yeah. I’m Sherman Yang. I’m  _ sort of  _ the head counselor of Ares. I mean, I’m technically the head, but Clarisse is here and she was the ex-head and she kind of… took control again. Anyway, I’m here instead of her because she’s in the basement necking with her boyfriend. So… yeah,” Sherman shrugged. “I’ve been here for years, fought through the Labyrinth and Manhattan and the battle with Gaia. And I was also here when Apollo crashed here some eight months back. And this is my girlfriend Miranda.”

Miranda gave a small, coquettish wave. “Miranda Gardiner. Head of Demeter. Same accomplishments list as Sherman.”

There was a pause. Miranda looked at the scared-looking boy next to her. “... Um.” he whispered. “I… I’m Mitchell. I’m from Aphrodite, but… I’m not the head counselor. I was sent because Drew and Piper are arguing and Piper wanted to deal with her instead of being here. So… I’m here in her place.”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “That’s stupid. What if we were discussing something really important? Like what if we discovered that camp was about to be attacked?”

“I’d have to tell her, ma’am,” Mitchell responded.

“... I’ll talk to her later,” Annabeth sighed. “Until then, thank you for representing.” She peered past Mitchell. A blond boy sat there with his head on the table. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Can somebody wake him?”

Mitchell shook the boy. “Clovis.”

“Wha?”

“We’re doing introductions. Introduce yourself.”

He looked around. His eyes were half-lidded. “... Thanks. I… I’m Clovis.”

“Godly parent,” Mitchell whispered. 

“Hypnos. I’m the cabin leader.”

“That you are. Moving on,” Annabeth cut in. “Connor? Care to introduce yourself?”

A boy with brunette curls looked up from his box of Saltines. “... Um. Uhm Cunnur.” He swallowed his mouthful of crackers. “Connor Stoll. Head of Hermes cabin. Veteran of the Labyrinth, Manhattan and Gaia. Professional shitstarter. Or that’s what my brother says, anyway.” Connor ate another cracker. He looked at Nico, who was sitting at the head of the table next to him. 

“Nico di Angelo.” His voice was sharp. “In addition to fighting through Manhattan, the Labyrinth, and Gaia, I was also part of the quest that brought the Athena Parthenos to camp and thusly ended the rivalry between Greek and Roman.” He paused. “I also made an attempt to close the Doors of Death but… that didn’t go so well.”

Will patted his hand. “You did all you could.” He was quiet.

Nico looked at him. “... You gonna introduce yourself?”

“Oh.” Will chuckled. “Oh, forgive me. I’m awkward. Anyway, I’m Will Solace. I’m the head medic here and I’m also the head of Apollo.”

Nico leaned in close to Will. “Mention the other things.”

“... And I’m his boyfriend.”

Frank did a double-take.

“Not that thing,” Nico groaned. “Moving on because he’s being an idiot. Lou?”

The violet-eyed girl looked up from her can of Red Bull. “Okay. I’m Lou Ellen, head of Hecate. Honestly, I have the same accomps sheet as everyone else here. Nothing to brag about.” She took a sip. “Or at least nothing legal.”

_ So this is what a Hecate kid looks like, _ Hazel mused internally.  _ Acts more like a Hermes kid, honestly.  _ “... Anyway,” Hazel broke in. “I’m Hazel Levesque. Ah… daughter of Pluto. I’m the newest Praetor in New Rome. I was promoted when the former praetor, ah…” She made eye contact with Nico. He was staring at the table. “... deserted her post. Anyway, I was a member of the prophesized Seven, same as Annabeth, Frank, Percy, Piper, Leo, and…” she paused. “Jason.”

“Jason,” the others murmured.

Hazel had an idea. “A moment of silence for him, maybe?”

“That’d be a great idea,” Percy responded. It was the first thing he’d said all meeting. 

The room went quiet. Hazel glanced over at Leo, who was sitting on the other side of Frank. His eyes were closed and his head was down. She could see his lip trembling slightly.

After the minute was up, the room began to stir softly. Frank cleared his throat. “... I’m Frank. Son of Mars. I’m the other praetor in New Rome, and I’m a vet of the Battle with Gaia and the Roman War with Caligula. That’s all, really.”  _ And I’m only praetor because Jason gave it to me. _

Frank looked at Leo. For a second, he thought Leo was going to cry. Instead, he took a breath, plastered a grin on his face and looked around the table. “I’m Leo Valdez. Supersized McShizzle, baby. I’m the shit. Head counselor for Hephaestus, slayed Gaia and was the only man to find Ogygia twice. If y’all come with me after this I’ll introduce you to the super hot girl I brought back.”

“That’s nice,” Annabeth said flatly. “Where’s Paolo?”

“In the infirmary with two broken legs,” Will responded. “He’ll be fine, though.”

“And Pollux?”

“Dear gods, no one knows. He disappeared after Manhattan.”

“... What?” 

“He’s in college in North Carolina,” Miranda broke in. “He’s okay. He just needed some time away from demigod life. He’s out in the mountains somewhere. He wrote me a month ago to tell me he’s fine and will hopefully be back at some point this summer. He didn’t say when.”

Annabeth sighed. “Well, as long as he’s okay.”

Miranda nodded. 

Annabeth shuffled some papers. “Well, now that we’re done with that… this should be a short meeting, honestly. First item is… normally we play Capture the Flag on Friday nights. Do the Romans want in on that?”

“... Sure. We can divide up the legions half-and-half. Half on one team and half on the other. We can put the First and Fifth on the same side to balance out,” Frank cut in.

“Sounds good,” Annabeth replied. “Will you and Hazel be with the Fifth or will you each be on a side or…”

“I can fill in wherever,” Hazel said. 

“Same,” Frank responded. 

“... Sounds good. Anyway, since… since we don’t have a Zeus kid anymore, it’s back to being Athena vs. Ares. No objections?”

Nobody said anything.

“Good. So… I’m assuming everyone will just side with who they hate less?”

“I’m with you,” Percy said. 

“Oookay. And… clockwise again. State which side you’re on. Butch?”

“... Athena.”

“Ares,” Laurel and Holly said in unison.

“... I’d like Damien to go first,” Chiara said gently.

“I’m with Ares,” Damien said.

“Then I’m with Athena,” Chiara responded. “For balance. Balance is good.”

“Demeter?” Annabeth asked.

“We’re with Ares,” Miranda replied softly. 

“And who is Aphrodite with?” Annabeth asked.

“... Whoever,” Mitchell whispered. 

“Then they’ll be with us,” Annabeth proclaimed. “And… we’ll take Hypnos too. They don’t do much but maybe we’ll have Clovis sleep on top of the flag or something.”

“Hey!” Clovis grunted sleepily.

“My apologies. Anyway… Nico?”

“I’ll go wherever will make it balanced.”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “Then you’re with Are-”

“-Nope,” Sherman cut in. “He’s an asshole. Will is too. You can take them both. I don’t want them.”

“... Ooookay then,” Annabeth replied. “Then we get Apollo and Hades.”

“I can go with Ares,” Connor huffed. “Cecil’s gonna hate it, but we’ll manage.”

“That boy tries to fight me every other day,” Will dismissed. “One more little game won’t hurt.”

“Glad you’re taking this well. Anyway, we’re with Ares.”

“Good, good.” Annabeth replied, scribbling in a notebook. “Hecate?”

“I’ll go with Ares.”

“Good. And Leo?”

“Um… yeah. I guess I’m with Ares now. Balance,” Leo chuckled nervously. 

“Good. Frank, you figure out which of your legions should go where, write it down and give Chiron the figures. Capische?” 

“Aye aye!” Frank replied, saluting.

“... Okay. Now that’s settled. Does anyone have anything to report that’s urgent?”

Lou Ellen raised her hand.

“... Yes?”

“I put a hole in my cabin’s wall again and I’m out of Spackle to fix it.”

“Talk to Leo Valdez. I said, does anyone have anything  _ urgent _ to report?”

Sherman raised his hand.

“Okay. You have something to report?”

“Yeah. Clarisse told me to tell you that she found a nest of baby drakons in the woods about a half-mile out of camp.”

“I’ll make sure we avoid that tonight. Where exactly were they?” Annabeth asked, scribbling again.

“She said it was by the big tree that has the split in the middle from the lightning strike.”

“Thank you. Now… I think that’s it unless someone else has something to discuss.”

There was silence.

“Oh thank the gods. We’re done. You are all dismissed. Go away and leave me alone.”

People dispersed. Nico went to go play Pac-Man on the machine. Will left to check on Paolo. Lou and Connor left together for an unknown destination. Mitchell went with Clovis to go deliver Piper the scoop and put Clovis back to bed. Annabeth put her head on Percy’s shoulder, cuddling for a moment. 

Sherman turned to Miranda. “I wanna go talk to Frank about something. See if Mars kids are anything like Ares kids.”

“... Go ahead,” Miranda stated. 

She watched Sherman leave. He cornered Frank by the door.

“... Aw, did I miss everything?” came a voice from behind her.

Miranda whirled. “Pollux!” 

“The one and only,” Pollux sighed. His arm was in a sling. “What’d I miss?”

“Not much. Just go tell Annabeth whose team you’re on for Capture the Flag.”

“It’s Athena vs. Ares, right?”

“Yeah. We… we don’t have a Zeus kid anymore. Jason… he’s dead.”

Pollux paused. “... Sucks.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Miranda agreed. 

Pollux looked around. “Is Will Solace okay?”

“Yeah. He’s in the infirmary. Speaking of infirmary, how…” She gestured to the sling on his arm.

“Oh. Irate ex-girlfriend put lead in my shoulder. Stole my car, too.”

“Gods.” Miranda shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”

“... It’s okay,” Pollux shrugged. “Not your fault.”

There was a pause. “... Anyway. I got the car back, so… no big deal. I’m gonna go say hi to Will.”

“Go ahead,” Miranda laughed. Gods, that was typical Pollux. Guy never gave a shit about himself unless the problem was fatal.

Pollux left. Miranda made her way to the door. She had a rosebush to water, and she didn’t want to hang around long. 

As she entered into the much quieter main hallway of the Big House, she heard someone quietly call “Miranda.”

_ Shit.  _ She froze. That was a recognizable voice. She turned. “... What is it, Clarisse?”

“I wanna talk to you. Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious.” The older larger girl was leaning heavily against the wall. The expression on her face was unrecognizable. 

“... Okay.” Miranda’s stomach twisted. She went and stood in front of Clarisse. She was  _ way _ taller than she looked from a distance. “What is it?”

“You’re dating Sherman, right?”

“... Yes, I am. Have been for about two years.”

“And we’ve never spoken on it, right?”

“Never,” Miranda said.

Clarisse nodded. She looked Miranda up and down. “... Does he treat you well?”

“Like a princess,” Miranda said softly.

“... Good.” Clarisse met her eyes. Her eyes were dark and intense. Miranda thought she could see tiny flecks of red in them. “If not, I’d have to off him.”

Miranda scanned her face. A light pink scar on her chin glinted in the light. “... And why do you care what Sherman does to me?”

Clarisse looked away. For a moment, Miranda thought she looked like she was about to cry. “... No reason. Just concern for the greater femininity, I guess.”

_ That’s bull, _ Miranda thought.  _ I know you’re not some white-knight crusader.  _ “Right, of course,” she said.

“Good,” Clarisse said lightly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“... Yeah, me too.” Miranda shifted. 

Clarisse patted her shoulder and turned to walk off. “Tell me if he starts treating you bad, okay?”

“... Will do,” Miranda responded, sighing. “I doubt he will, though.”

“Good,” Clarisse nodded. “Good.”

She left, leaving Miranda alone in the hallway with demigods filtering slowly past her.  _ … I’ve never been so confused in my life. I have no idea why Clarisse would take any interest in me at all. I mean, from what Sherman says, Clarisse doesn’t give a damn about him or anyone else. Although maybe if I’m nice to her, that could change. _

_ After all, she does seem to care. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HC that Miranda reminds Clarisse of Silena a little bit.  
> Also, apologies if this fic was kinda boring. It was on my mind so I wrote it down.  
> Also also, Will and Cecil are super close friends. Which is why they fight all the time.


	11. Implied Mitchell x Clovis- "When did you realize?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have a HC that all Hypnos kids are narcoleptic. I wrote about it a little via Clovis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backstory: Clovis had a narcoleptic episode (is that what they're called? idk) and fell and hit his head. Also, Mitchell is living with Clovis because he doesn't have anywhere else to be.

“... How’s Clovis?” Mitchell mumbled nervously, shifting his feet. He was standing in Clovis’s mother’s living room. He’d wound up crashing at Clovis’s place for the year because he didn’t want to go back to boarding school.

Eva, Clovis’s mom, smiled slightly. “None the worse for wear. He’ll be okay. This isn’t the first time this has happened to him.” Clovis was curled up on the couch, an ice pack on his head.

“When… when did you realize he was… he was narcoleptic?” Mitchell whispered. 

“... Oh, gods. It was so long ago. I… he was five years old or so. I had him in the bathtub. I’d left him alone for a minute to go get some water. When I came back…” Eva sniffled and wiped her eyes. She was sitting next to Clovis on the floor stroking his hair. Mitchell sat next to her.

“... When you came back?” Mitchell prompted.

“When I came back… he was asleep and underwater. Just drowning without a sound. And he didn’t wake up. I pulled him out and… I just slammed on his back and chest. He woke up then. Heaving and sobbing. I don’t think he’s taken a bath since. Only showers.

“I took him to the doctor. They did some tests. I lost count of how many they did. Finally, when they told me, I… I just… I couldn’t stop crying. I went home and… just cried so loud. I called my sister and… and she told me to… to…” She paused and wiped her eyes. “She told me to send him to some facility. Where they could watch him constantly. I told her no fucking way. He’s not a murderer. He shouldn’t be thrown in a little room and left to rot for all eternity.”

“You’re right. He shouldn’t be put away.”

“I know, right? So… I made sure he took his meds. It didn’t make the fits go away completely, but… they did help some. When it was time to send him to school, I… I just homeschooled him. It got a little weird with my work and his school but… it worked. I watched him every time he went swimming, too. Was never more than a few feet from him.”

“That’s a lot of effort,” Mitchell whispered. “Not a lot of people would deal with that.”

“I’m aware. But… I couldn’t deal with the thought of him being judged or bullied or tormented or shamed for it. By anyone.”

Mitchell wrinkled his brow. He imagined a small Clovis falling asleep on a carpet and someone stomping on his little fingers. It made his heart twist. “I… I understand.”

“I’m glad you do,” Eva soothed. “So… yeah. No machines. No facilities. No more meds than necessary. Only a mother’s love and dedication and one little pill.”

“That’s incredible,” Mitchell murmured. “You… you must love him so much.” 

“I do.” Eva kissed his cheek. Clovis mumbled in his sleep. “I’d do anything for him. I mean, he is my only son, so I might just have only-kid syndrome, but…”

“Don’t underrate it.”

Eva nodded. “I won’t.”

Mitchell leaned in and put his head next to Clovis’s. Clovis’s lips were parted slightly. His hair was mussed from the ice pack. 

He looked incredibly peaceful. 

“... What is you and Clovis’s actual relationship?” Eva asked. “Not to change the subject, but I’m curious.”

Mitchell thought. “Um… I’m his designated wingman.”

“Wingman,” Eva repeated. She gave Mitchell a look. “Well, who are these girls my dear little boy is wanting help with? I’d love to meet them.”

“I’d love to meet them too. Clovis doesn’t seem to have any romantic interest in anybody.”

Eva gave Mitchell another, different look. “Okay. Well, let me know if you hear of anyone. He seems closer to you than anyone.”

“Will do,” Mitchell confirmed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, if you need medical treatment for something, you should get it. Eva just didn't want Clovis to be embarrassed by his issues, so she isolated him a little until his meds kicked in right.


	12. Solangelo-"Freezing Fucking Cold"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's got something that Nico needs to know about.

“... Where did Will go?” Cecil asked. He and Nico were sitting on the front step of Cabin 13. Nico had just finished changing after he and Will’s unfortunate dunk in the canoe lake. He was wearing one of Will’s sweaters. 

“Back to his cabin to change,” Nico responded. He paused and looked over at Cecil.  “... How long does that even take him? I mean, I know people like him are supposed to be vain, but…”

“He isn’t vain. Not in the slightest. He’s probably… well, it’s better if I just show you.”

Nico gave Cecil a look. “... Is this gonna be obscene?”

“No, no,” Cecil reassured. “Just come with me.”

Cecil got up and ran for the Apollo cabin. Nico followed. “Are you sure you’re okay to run? Don’t overdo it, man, you just…” 

“I think he put me in suspended animation or something. I feel fine,” Cecil asked. “Honestly, the only thing I felt I had to do when I woke up was to go for a piss.”

“Thanks, Cecil. I totally had to know that.”

Cecil didn’t respond. He banged on the door of the Apollo cabin, then jimmied the lock until it opened. He pulled Nico inside. Will was huddled up against the radiator in the back. He had changed into dry clothes, but he was still shivering. His hands and feet were pressed to the radiator bars. “Hey, man,” Cecil started, flopping down next to him.

“... Hey,” Will replied softly.

“... Will,” Nico murmured. “I’m sorry I never told you I couldn’t swim until now.”

“... It’s okay.”

“... Are you all right?” Nico asked, sitting down in front of Will. He touched the radiator. It was burning hot.

Will stared into space. His eyes were glazed over. Nico could see that his cheek was red where it was pressed to the radiator. “... Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Hold on,” Cecil cut in. “You’re not fine, are you?”

“... Uh…”

“Because if you went in the canoe lake, that water has to be freezing fucking cold,” Cecil explained. “Will, does Nico know about…”

“Wait, do I know about what?” Nico asked.

“... I have a problem with my hands and feet,” Will explained. “I got frostbitten kind of bad a long time ago, and ever since my hands and feet have been super sensitive to cold.”

Nico cocked his head. “... Is it like, painful or something?”

“Incredibly painful,” Will replied. “Which… I mean, that’s why I bitch so hard about the cold sometimes.”

Nico thought back to the flashes of pain he’d seen in Will’s eyes throughout the past few hours. “... And… you ignored that to heal everybody else?”

“... Yeah. I mean… I was the only Apollo kid left. It’s not like I had any other options aside from making Chiron do it. And no one ever died from pain alone.”

Nico reached out and brushed Will’s hair off his cheek. He didn’t know what to say. “... You know, they say combat medics are all bastards, but you’re like the most selfless person I’ve ever met.”

“... Thanks,” Will murmured. He closed his eyes. His face was slack, his mouth was open slightly. “Are Austin and Kay still in the infirmary?”

“... I think so. They’re gonna take some cough medicine, wait for it to kick in and then come back when they feel less bad.”

“... Okay,” Will whispered. “I… I just want to make sure they’re okay.” His voice cracked slightly. 

“... Don’t start crying again. They’re fine now,” Nico responded. 

Will nodded. He didn’t respond.

Cecil put his head on Will’s back. “... Hey, man, I’m sorry. I…”

“Don’t apologise. It wasn’t your fault.”

Will felt Cecil nod against his back. “I know. I just feel bad.”

“... Don’t,” Will murmured. 

There was a pause. Cecil felt his head rise and fall with Will’s breaths. Nico took one of Will’s hands, rubbing it gently. Stroking over every finger as they curled around his. Will’s hands were warm from the radiator. 

“... Your hands are cold,” Will murmured. “... Are you cold?”

“Maybe a little. Not really,” Nico responded. “Do you want me to stop?”

“... No,” Will admitted. “They’re not that cold.”

There was another pause. Nico kissed Will’s knuckles. “... I have to go. I think your father’s gonna be back soon, and…”

“You don’t want to be here when that happens?”

“Not really.”

“That’s understandable,” Will sighed. “Also… was that the first time you kissed me?”

Nico thought. “... Might’ve been,” he admitted. 

“... Do it again sometime,” Will murmured. 

“Later,” Nico promised. “For now, I gotta go. I’ll see you later. Sometime when your father’s not around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest, I don't write a lot of Solangelo material anymore. It just doesn't hold a whole lot of allure for me. I still like Will as a character, though, so he's not just gonna disappear from my fics or something.  
> Also, my research on frostbite was minimal, so I don't really know if frostbite does exactly that. I know it can cause nerve damage, though, so I guess that can result in hypersensitivity. Maybe.  
> I probably shouldn't care as much as I do about the medical accuracy of my fics, but I do.


	13. Tratie- Reach His Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katie knew something was wrong when she couldn't hear Travis's laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a HC that Katie moves in with Travis and Connor. They share a cruddy little apartment near the college they attend. I don't know where exactly it is-maybe somewhere in North Dakota or something. It's not that important.

Katie knew something was wrong as soon as she stepped into the apartment and couldn’t hear Travis’s laugh.

Normally, the son of Hermes had the loudest, brightest laugh she’d ever heard. And he laughed so hard and so consistently that Katie could usually hear it down the hall. Sometimes Katie wondered if Travis felt like the world was just a joke to be laughed at, or a prank to be played, or a play to be put on. She’d never met a man who just always seemed so  _ happy. _

“... Travis?” she asked.

There was no response. Katie noticed two curly brown heads curled up on a bed pillow, one tucked under the other’s chin. Travis lay on top of the blankets, his arm around a barely-visible lump in the mattress that Katie guessed was Connor. She moved closer to Connor’s bed. “... Travis?”

“Katie.” Travis’s voice, although muffled, sounded strange. “Welcome home.”

“Travis?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

“... I’m fine,” he replied.

She leaned in and sat down. He was facing away from her. She could see one bloodshot eye peeping out from the curls. “... Have you been crying?”

Travis shook his head. 

Katie studied what she could see of his face. A small drop of water settled on the pillow where his eye was and spread across the fabric. “... You’re crying.”

Travis didn’t respond. He pushed his head back a little and laid it against her thigh. 

Katie reached back and stroked his hair. A sudden surge of protectiveness rushed through her. She wanted to hold him. “... Do you want to talk about it?”

Travis shook his head. 

“... May I cuddle you?”

Travis nodded.

Katie lay down against his back, laying an arm around his waist. She kissed a freckle on his neck and draped one of her thighs across his hip. She felt his shoulders shaking, his chest heaving. A hotly protective feeling settled in her chest; she burned with it, this need to keep safe this poor little freckled boy who was crying in her arms.

Travis felt swollen, tender inside. Katie’s touch graced over him, she held him tight, a stark contrast to his aching heart. Oh, Connor. He’d let Connor get hurt. He’d done the one thing he’d sworn he’d never do. His lungs burned and spasmed, tingling as Katie stroked his chest. She was trying to relax him. She was only trying to relax him. 

He couldn’t stop crying.

“Travis,” Katie whispered. “What prompted this?”

Travis kissed the top of Connor’s head, sitting up. “I… I promised Connor that I wouldn’t let him get hurt under a particular… situation. Well, he got hurt. Not badly, I already fixed it with… with nectar, but…” Travis sniffled. Katie brushed tears off of his cheeks. “... but I still feel bad.” 

Katie nodded. “What was the situation?”

“... Remember when I told you that if a brunette lady with dark brown eyes and a scar on her cheek asked you if you knew us, you’d never heard of us in your life?”

Katie raised an eyebrow. “... Yes?”

“... Well, don’t bother with that anymore,” Travis sighed.

“Oookay. What’s happening? Are you two in danger?”

“Nah. Just… my mom just got out of prison and she wanted to see her boys. I was avoiding her because she and Connor and I don’t have that great of a relationship. Anyway, she came by. Things got a little heated. She and Connor got in a fight. I had to separate them. After that she just left. No words or anything.”

“... I don’t even know how to respond to that,” Katie whispered. “I… I’m so sorry.”

Travis leaned his head against her shoulder. “Then don’t say anything.”

Katie thought of something. “Be honest,” she whispered, pulling him close. “Are you in danger?”

“... I don’t think so,” Travis replied. He melted against her, shoulders trembling. His heart was painfully swollen, he felt as if he could burst and bleed hot over poor Katie, Katie, who didn’t deserve this, Katie, who didn’t deserve to have to deal with his problems. 

Katie shifted. Travis was only a few inches taller than her, but that translated into quite the awkward fullness when he was curled up in her arms. She kissed his neck. “... Well, I’m glad you’re not in danger. Do you think she’s coming back?” 

Travis sighed. “Doubtful. I mean, she’s probably gonna go back to Vegas. She’s got a… life… there. Or at least she had one.”

Katie nodded. “Good.” She sighed. “No offense, but I’m glad she’s gone.”

“None taken.” Travis curled up so that his head was in her lap. He put his arm around Connor, cradling him again. He caught a glimpse of a dark mark on his cheek, a little purple bruise. Some dumbly primal part of him wanted to try and kiss it better, even though he knew it wouldn’t do anything but make Connor feel awkward. “... Thank you for listening.”

Katie stroked a gentle thumb over his cheek. “No problem.”

They sank into a comfortable silence. Katie ran her fingernails over Travis’s freckled cheek, through his curls, over his neck. She watched his honey-colored eyes glaze over as a fragile expression took over his face. He closed his eyes. She heard the breath quiver in his chest. “... It’s not your fault.”

“Huh?” Travis’s voice trembled.

“It’s not your fault that your mom hurt Connor. It’s hers. Don’t blame yourself.” Katie kissed his cheek.

Travis squoze his eyes shut. Katie could see the anguish written in the lines of his face. “... I suppose not. I just… I want… I just want to protect him so bad,” Travis whispered, his voice cracking.

Katie lay down and held him again. Emotionally, she needed to be close. It hurt too much to see him so fragile. “... That’s noble of you. But…Travis, I just don’t want you hurting yourself over this.”

Travis studied the little purple mark blossoming across Connor’s cheek. His heart twisted further. “I… I dunno. It… it hurts me to see him hurt.”

“You’re empathetic towards him. That’s a good thing. But Travis, you need to find a way to let it go. If you gave him ambrosia and nectar and bruise cream and emotional support—which I know that you did—then you’ve done all you could.”

Travis sighed. He kissed Connor’s forehead. “... I know. But… it still hurts. And it’s not gonna stop hurting.”

Katie kissed his neck. She didn’t know what to say, so she squoze him gently, kissing over the freckles on his neck and cheek. She could taste salt on his cheek, and she wondered how much time he’d spent crying before she came in. It made her ribs ache.

Travis’s heart bled hotly through his body, the heat pooled in his sinuses and behind his eyes, his pain bled through his nose and eyes and twisted in his muscles. He clung to Connor as tears poured out of his eyes. 

Katie felt Travis’s chest begin to heave again. She rubbed his chest gently. She wished only that she could reach his heart somehow, tell him that it  _ wasn’t _ his fault, tell him Connor was okay, tell him it was okay and have him  _ hear  _ it. She kissed lovingly over his neck, trying to communicate through touch what she couldn’t with her words. She felt Travis’s body shudder, tense, his breaths came hot and quick. “... I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be,” Katie murmured, kissing his neck and jaw. “It’s okay.”

“I… I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t want to cry in front of you.”

Katie sighed. “... I don’t care, man. I mean, I’ve heard men cry over stupider things. At least it wasn’t a video game or something.”

A laugh bubbled out of Travis’s chest, despite himself. He relaxed slightly. “... Ha, yeah. That’d be stupider.”

Katie relaxed. Travis’s laugh sounded even sweeter after he’d been crying. “Hey, I made  _ you _ laugh for once!”

Travis sighed. He felt his spirits lift. “... Yeah.” He rolled over to face her. His face was a mess, red and blotchy and wet. His honey-brown eyes sunk into a sea of bloodshot and his pink lips were wet and parted. “Thank you.”

Katie put a kiss on his lips, wiping the tears off of his cheeks. “You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's after midnight, I'm tired as hell and I have to wake up in six hours.  
> Also, I HC that Momma Stoll ran an organized crime ring out of Vegas and that's why Hermes fell in love with her twice. Also also, her relationship with Travis and Connor is rocky as hell. She doesn't even necessarily hate her kids, she's just a terrible mom. And she tends to solve problems with fists. Hence the bruise on Connor's cheek and the mentions of a physical fight.


	14. Caleo- Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo has some problems. Calypso is willing to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another one I found going through my Google Drive. Apparently I was an extremely proficient fanfic writer at age 14-15. No idea if I was any good, but I was proficient.

Leo Valdez woke with a jerk. He took a heavy breath and sat up. He looked around the room. No fire or smoke. He wasn't on fire or smoking. The room was the same as it always had been, bed in the corner, bathroom across the room, TV in the corner, paper and scrap metal and other random junk all in between. And Calypso. 

Calypso, the one thing in the apartment that couldn't be replaced in case of fire. Leo hadn't trusted himself with living beings since that incident so many years ago. Girls were especially difficult. They always reminded Leo of what he had lost, for fourteen years later, Leo Valdez still saw the smoke and fire. It was still there,  _ all  _ of it, incident and aftermath. It was in the cracks in his mind, in his dreams and tears and mental gears, like a ghost that couldn't be put to rest.

Leo gently pulled the covers off of his sleeping girlfriend. He picked up her slender arm, the one closest to him. He examined it and sighed.  _ No burns there. Thank the gods.  _ He pulled up her shirt and looked there.  _ Thank the gods. No burns anywhere.  _ Leo's worst fear was that there would come a day when he’d wake up in a burning room and Calypso would be burned to death next to him. 

He crawled out of bed and twisted a sheet of foil that had been on the floor around his finger. His vision fogged over and he blinked hard. He put his head in his hands.

Calypso opened her eyes and stretched. She flopped onto her side. Upon doing so, she saw Leo sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. “What's wrong, babe?”

“... N-nothing, Calypso.” That's when she knew something was wrong. Leo almost never called her by her full name. It was always some nickname, like Sunshine or  _ mamacita  _ or something else in Spanish.

“Aw, come here, babe,” Calypso cooed. Leo crawled into her arms and nuzzled her neck. Calypso's body was soft, like his mother's had been. She'd put on a little weight since leaving Ogygia, the fault, Leo assumed, of the tasty fast food he’d introduced her to.

“Are you willing to tell me what you were upset about?” Calypso asked.

Leo paused.  _ I'll give her the same version of the story I gave Jason and Piper. She deserves to know… at least the very short half-truth version.  _ “My… my mother died in a warehouse fire. I was… thinking about that. Nothing to do with you.” 

“Poor baby…” Calypso cooed sadly, patting his back. “I wish I could say it was okay…” 

“It's okay now. Well, no, but it's better now than it used to be. The machine will keep turning, no matter how much we get hurt or hurt each other or feel good  _ the world keeps turning,  _ and it alienates a lot of us and a lot of us die but in the end, it all goes more or less according to the same cycle of rise and fall, rise, fall and die. And for the nest that burns, you build a new one, with a new girl. One who isn't your mother, but still acts like she loves you.” 

“Got any more talk in you, Socrates, or is it my turn?”

“... Go ahead, Calypso. I'm just talking out of my rear end at this point, anyway.”

“I wish I could make you feel better about this somehow… is that possible?”

“Yeah… just keep doing this.”

“Okay, Leo.” She paused, and neither one of them spoke. Leo's eyes filled. He missed her  _ so  _ badly. He didn't know what he’d pay to have his mother back. His hand tightened on Calypso's chest. She spoke again. “You cannot  _ possibly  _ be thinking about sex right now.”

_ Dangit,  _ he thought.  _ I did not mean to squeeze her boob right then. _ “I… wasn't…” he managed, his voice cracking badly. 

“Oh, gods, I'm sorry. You were falsely accused. I'm sorry, Leo.”

“‘S fine,” Leo squeaked. 

Calypso patted his back.“Come on, there's gotta be something I can do.”

“No, there's not…” Leo buried his wet face in Calypso's shoulder. Calypso hugged him while he cried himself out about the one thing he could never, ever live down, let go, be forgiven for, or tell anybody about. It had all been his fault. Her death was his fault. He couldn't look at himself in the mirror, all he saw was a murderer. He was no better than a criminal. 

“Baby…” Calypso whispered. “Baby, it's going to be okay. See? You're not there now. You're here, with me.” She kissed his cheek, and his sobs subsided a little bit. She continued. “And if you think it's your fault she died, it's not. I know you. You wouldn't ever do something like that on purpose.” 

Leo started. “How did you know I was blaming myself?” 

“Because if I had fire powers, and my mother had died in a fire, then I'd blame myself too.” 

“But…” Leo started.

“But what?” 

“But I think what happened was… I accidentally caught fire and…” Leo started crying again.

“Shh, baby. It's okay. It wasn't your fault. It was something you couldn't control yet, baby. And if others can't see that, then that’s their fault. And the regular people, or mortals or whatever we're calling them this century,  _ can't  _ see it. They can't see that part of you, baby. Don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault,” Calypso soothed.

Leo relaxed a bit. This was what he’d wanted to hear for years. That it wasn't his fault. That he wasn't a dangerous person or a bad person. “Thanks, Calypso. I love you…”

“Love you too, silly,” she giggled. “Now don't blame yourself for this anymore, okay?”

“I'll try…” he said quietly.

He did not move from her arms for the remainder of the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad that Leo and Calypso are working on their relationship instead of throwing it all away over nothing (coughcoughPipercoughcough). I just wish we got to see more of it. I know it probably won't happen, but I really hope we get more Caleo moments in the future. However much of a future we get at this point.


	15. Solangelo- Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has a reoccuring dream. Clovis and Nico help him with it. Funny and crackish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again... found while going through my Google Drive.

He had the kitten dream again. The kitten dream was one where he was standing in a large field, bordered by a forest. There was a small black kitten a few paces away from him. As he got closer to it, it ran from him. As he started running, it ran faster and led him into the forest, where it disappeared. That was the basics. The kitten had gotten older, skinnier and more beaten up over time, but it had remained the same basic dream. Recently, however, it had differed. He had seen the kitten’s eyes. They were brown eyes, dark brown eyes. Cats don't have brown eyes.

This time was the most different yet. Instead of chasing the kitten, he had extended his arms to it. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” he called, and it took a few steps towards him, shivering and hesitant. “It's okay. It's okay, kitty, I promise. I'm not a bad person. I'm not going to hurt you.” It came closer. “C’mere. I'll keep you from getting hurt.” He held his hand out, the kitten sniffed it and then nuzzled under his hand. A few more minutes and the kitten was cuddled in his lap.

Then the kitten’s form began to change. A human figure, not a cat. Black hair, black clothes and dark brown eyes. “Thank you,” Nico murmured.

“Wait. Is… is this really  _ you _ I'm talking to? Because this doesn't feel like a dream anymore.” 

“... It's kind of complicated but yes, this is me you're speaking to. You're not awake, this isn't really happening. This only exists in both of our dreamscapes, so…” Nico trailed off, then changed the subject. “Is this a common dream of yours? This feels like I barged in on a recurring dream.”

“Well… yeah. I've been having this dream for as long as I can remember. And… honestly, it's been differing as of late. The kitten… you? Either way, it never looked at me before. It looked at me the last few times, and it always had brown eyes, like you. Cats don't have brown eyes, so… yeah, that was memorable. Was…?” Will had no way to put words to the question. 

“This is the first time I've been  _ in _ this dream. This is the first time I've been in your dreamscape, period, I swear on the Styx. Whether this kitten is supposed to represent something, I have no idea. You could talk with Clovis about it if you want. I can run him a message through dreams, it's really the best way to contact him.”

“O-okay,” Will said, and Nico vanished. His dreams shifted and he was in the Hypnos cabin. Clovis was smiling kindly at him, and Nico was standing next to Clovis in his armchair. 

“Hello, Will,” the pudgy counselor of the Hypnos cabin grinned. “Nico told me about your dream. Kittens, huh?” Clovis was enjoying this.

“Uh. Yeah. Can you tell us what it means?”

“Well, this is certainly… interesting. Are you particularly in touch with your feminine side, Will?” Clovis was giggling. 

“Not sure. Why?”

“Kittens can represent one’s… feminine side, but they can also represent a woman in one’s life… you having issues with the ladies, Will?” 

“I'm gay and you know it, asshole. Why did the kitten turn into Nico?”

“Well… if you're a homosexual… then perhaps…” 

“Perhaps?”

“Perhaps Nico is your version of the woman in your life. Now for an awkward question… which one of you ah, bottoms?”

“We're both virgins. Well, Nico’s a virgin. I'm technically not, but it's… complicated.”

“What, did you lose your flower to an empousa or something?”

“No!” Will snapped. “No, of course not. But seriously, I don't… I don't think of Nico as feminine or womanly at all. Then again, most of the women I'm around are somewhat tomboyish, so…”

“So?”

“So maybe I'm secretly thinking of Nico as a tomboyish woman? Geez, I have no idea. The subconscious is confusing. I hate myself.” 

“It… it's fine, Will.” Nico's face was crimson.

“Are… are you sure?” Will replied tentatively. They had just gotten together, and Will did not want to do anything to sabotage that.

“Yes, Will. We don't have much control over our minds, I've noticed…” Nico chuckled.

Will giggled. “Yeah, I suppose you're right.”

Clovis spoke up. “Just… wait and see if you have the dream again. The dream may not represent Nico at all. He may have traveled into your dreamscape by accident and found himself playing a role. Let's just wait and see.”

He never had the dream again. 


	16. Non-shippy- Freya's Mistake (AKA "The Kitten")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya doesn't know that Blitz and Hearth aren't married. She doesn't know that they're not even together. She especially doesn't know how to give presents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was based off of a Tumblr post that since has been taken down. It was here. https://www.tumblr.com/search/mcga%20freya. I don't know what happened to it but it isn't there anymore.

Blitzen had just finished closing up the shop for the night. Heading into the apartment behind the store that he lived in, he flicked the lights on and off a few times to let the other occupant of the apartment know he was there. 

The other occupant rolled over and waved lazily at him.  _ Hey, buddy. You have a good day? _

Blitz smiled a little at his elf friend.  _ Yeah, _ he signed.  _ It was fine. Had one annoying teenage chick who was tasteless and unappreciative, but it doesn’t matter now that I’m home. _

Hearthstone smiled and snorted out his nose. _ Don’t worry about it. You’re still the best designer in all the Nine Worlds.  _

Blitz rolled his eyes.  _ Thanks. _

Hearth pouted.  _ Give yourself more credit. You’re very good at what you do. Besides, don’t give yourself crap. At least you can hear. _

Blitz didn’t know how to respond. He put his hand on his friend’s back and rubbed it gently in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.  _... I’m sorry. _

They stayed like that for a few awkward minutes before there was a knock on the door. Blitz started but turned around when he felt a tug on his coat.  _ What is it? What’s going on? _

_ Nothing. Just a knock. I’ll go get it. _ Blitz stood up and opened the door to a package that was larger than he was. Pushing it inside, he stood on his tiptoes and peered over the top of the package. There was a letter on top; a letter with a pink envelope and much too much perfume sprayed on it. Blitzen grumbled at it before tearing it open. He grumbled further as a handful of flower petals fell out of the envelope. He felt another tug on his coat.  _ What? _

_ Should I clean that up? _

_ Go ahead, _ Blitz signed. 

Hearth swept up the petals and walked into the bathroom to throw them away. Blitz looked at the letter.

_ Dearest Blitzen, _

_ Dammit, Mom.  _

_ Congrats on your ninth anniversary! Sorry I couldn’t make it to the party. Much too busy, you know. Congratulations anyway! _

_ -XOXO, _

_ The great and beautiful Freya _

_ Anniversary? What anniversary? What would she even give as an anniversary gift anyway? _ Blitz stood on his tiptoes and pulled off the ribbon and wrapping paper and suddenly noticed something extremely concerning in the air holes that covered the package. He opened the package and something whammed him in the chest and knocked him over. “OW!”

In the other room, Hearth felt something hard hit the floor and started. He turned and ran for the bathroom door, exploding into the main room. “HEARTH! GET THIS THING OFF OF ME!” Blitz was shouting while lying on the floor. His shirt was shredded and he had a lump on his head, assumedly from his head cracking into the wooden flooring. 

Hearth felt himself begin laughing. Blitz’s ferocious attacker was the cutest, fuzziest, largest calico kitten he’d seen in his whole life. He threw the dustpan aside and tackled the cat, squeezing it and ruffling its fur. 

Blitz sat up and groaned softly. He pulled his shirt up and tugged Hearth’s scarf a little to pull his attention away from the kitten, which was about the size of a bear. Hearth looked up and started, then stared. He pulled his arms away from the cat and lay back against it as it curled up around him.  _ What? _

_ Does my chest have bruises on it? _ Blitz signed, somewhat awkwardly because of needing to hold up his shirt. 

_ Meh. Little bit. A few scratches, but nothing to worry about. Put a Band-Aid on it. _ Hearth went back to rubbing the cat’s back. 

Another tug on the scarf.  _ You do realize the size of the litter box we’ll need for this thing, right?  _ Blitz signed.

_ Who cares? _ Hearth shot back.  _ We’ll buy a kids’ sandbox. It’ll be fine.  _

_ And where the fuck do you think we’ll put that? We live in an apartment, dumbass. _

Hearth shrugged.  _ Our bathroom’s pretty roomy. We can put it next to the tub. _

_ I hate you so much. _

_ Just like my father,  _ Hearth signed, closing his eyes and burying his face in the cat’s fur. 

Blitz tugged on Hearth’s scarf for the millionth time.  _ Okay, okay, I’m sorry! _

_ Thanks,  _ Hearth signed depressedly. 

There was an awkward silence before Blitz patted Hearth’s shoulder.  _ I’m sorry, but I’m not sure we can keep this cat. I mean, how would we feed it? _

_ Cats  _ hunt _ ,  _ Hearth gestured back.  _ It’ll be fine. _

Blitz rolled his eyes. Hearth had never owned a cat in his life.  _ Hearth. Cats. Need. To. Be. Fed. They are not wild animals anymore. They are pampered pets and they need feeding. They need to have food GIVEN TO THEM. They can’t get their own food anymore. They’re domesticated and they need us to feed them. Understand? _

Hearth nodded.  _ Okay, okay.  _

Blitz shook his head.  _ Unless Freya included a giant bag of cat food in there, I’ve got no idea how to feed this thing. Hearth, check in there and see if we’re getting helpful Freya or the Freya that birthed me. _

Hearth looked.  _ We got helpful Freya! We got helpful Freya! We can keep him! We can keep him!  _ Hearth jumped up and down and clapped between signs. 

Blitz grinned. Seeing Hearth this open and happy was a rare treat.  _ Awesome.  _

Hearth smiled and wrapped his arms back around the cat, nuzzling its fur between furious signs.  _ Thankyouthankyouthankyou… _

_ Yeah. You’re welcome. Hope you’re prepared to take care of this thing. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I referenced this drabble over in "Solangelo Meets the MCGA Gang" at some point.  
> Not sure why I felt the need to tell you all that.  
> Also, if anyone gives you a present with air holes, run like the fucking wind.


	17. Percabeth (and some Tysella)- Percy's Evening Swim Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy needs some time and space to think. This is what he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this one was the only one out of all of my old Percabeth fics that was decent enough to post.

Percy stretched. He was standing on the dock next to the canoe lake on a warm summer evening. Everyone else was out at the campfire, so he was totally alone. He stripped down to his underwear, liking the way the warm wind felt on his skin. He stretched a little more and then dove into the lake, shooting across the water with an ease that few people could comprehend until they saw it. 

It took a moment for him to realize that he had an audience; a few naiads lined the shelf of the lake. Their mouths were wide open. A few of them started to clap. He spun down until he was on their level, bowed, then spun out. They clapped and hooted with glee after he exited, and one of them grabbed his ankle before he could leave. He shook her off, gently, and her face contorted like she was about to cry. 

“I'm sorry,” Percy said to her. “I have a girlfriend.” 

The grabby river spirit started to sink sadly back to her friends on the shelf. Percy, feeling a little bad for rejecting her, gave her a pat on the shoulder. The girl smiled and left happily, redeemed by the attention she had gotten. Percy didn't want her there. He wanted to be alone.

He hadn't slept in three days. He couldn't eat, sleep or hold a job. He felt worthless. All he had was this lake, this scarred body and a suitcase of clothes. And the lake wasn't even his.

The cool water made him feel better. His breathing evened as his head popped up from the lake. He pushed himself up onto the far bank and stared at the light coming from the camp. He knew that his friends would be winding down for the night. They would probably be at campfire, singing, yelling, and laughing. It was something that he normally enjoyed quite a bit., but he couldn't bring himself to join them. He didn't want to bring them down. He was a bit depressed at the moment, and he wanted to swim for a few minutes longer. He took a breath, feeling the water running over him. His eyes closed and his body relaxed and slipped into the water. His head sunk down just enough so that his ears were submerged, making it so that he couldn't hear the footsteps on the dock across the lake from him.

Annabeth jumped into the lake with all her clothing on. She knew she’d change in a little bit anyway, and it was so warm that wet clothes didn't bother her. Percy was on the other side of the lake and even though it was a long way to swim, she knew she could make it. She started to swim, and swam until her arms were burning and quivering. She was in the middle of the lake, treading water. She stretched and continued. _For Percy. He'd do it for me._

Percy felt a hand grab his shoulder. He grabbed the wrist, thinking that it was that meddling naiad again. The figure grabbed him around in a hug and pulled herself in, pulling them up and gasping for air. _So… not a river spirit. They don't need to breathe air._ He opened his eyes and saw a mop of blonde hair floating out behind the figure in his arms. “Annabeth…?” 

“Percy. Oh, gods, Percy. Why are you so far out here?” She was gasping, like it was hard to breathe. 

“No reason. I'm fine,” Percy lied. “I just wanted some time alone, that's all.” 

“O-okay. I'm sorry for interrupting you.” 

“Actually, let's go back to camp. Get on my back, will you?” Percy knew she was tired, and wanted to get her warm and dry. Annabeth did as she was told, nuzzling into his neck as he shot them through the water. He carried her to shore, putting her on safe dry ground once she was there. They walked back into the cabin area. He pulled her into his arms, trying to warm her up. She was shivering.

“I love you, okay? I think you might want to go take a warm shower. You're cold, I can tell…” 

“Yeah… thanks… I'll go do that. That sounds nice. I gotta be ready for our drive back to New Rome tomorrow, right?” Annabeth giggled weakly.

“Probably a good idea,” Percy replied. He paused, feeling sad again. “Hey…” 

“Yeah?” 

“If… if you ever want to buy a plane ticket and go ahead to New Rome without me, that's totally okay…” 

“No, Percy. I don't like to leave you alone.”

"You were okay doing it a few years ago when you went to go see Magnus.”

“That's because I left you with your mother. And I trust her to keep you safe.” She paused. “I have to.”

Percy hugged her tighter. “I'm glad you trust my mom, Wise Girl.”

"Thanks,” Annabeth said with a watery smile. “And it's really just when you're… _alone_ alone that I get worried. That's when you do stupid stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Like hijack a bus, run away from camp to go on a quest that isn’t yours, blow yourself out of a volcano, steal a police cruiser, run away to Alaska…” Annabeth counted on her fingers. “I could list these all day.”

“I ran away from camp to get you out of Titan captivity, and the Alaska thing was a quest. You know that,” Percy grumped.

“I know. But it was still stupid.” 

“Okay, fine! Change of subject. We set off tomorrow, together, then?” 

“Of course,” Annabeth smiled. She kissed Percy gently. “Goodnight, Seaweed Brain. I love you.” 

She left for her cabin. Percy followed her figure with his eyes until he was sure she was safe in her cabin, then left for his own cabin. Upon entering, he saw a familiar figure hunched over a small project. “Tyson, buddy? That you?”

“Brother!” Tyson was all smiles. He stood up and hugged Percy, lifting him off the ground in the process.

“All right, buddy, you can put me down now. My ribs are starting to hurt,” Percy grunted. Tyson set him down gently. Percy looked over at the small collection of Celestial Bronze parts on the floor. “What’s that over there?”

“It is not recognizable,” Tyson said sadly. “Was trying to make a present for Ella. It is not going so well.” He knelt sadly over the project.

“Aw, man, don’t be that way. You’re good with your hands. You can make this work, I’m sure of it. Now, is there anything I can do to help you with it? Will you tell me what it’s supposed to be?”

“It is an Archimedes Sphere,” Tyson said. He picked up a roundish object. “It will open up and fly around like she does, so she will not be lonely when she is flying around.”

“What will it look like when it’s open?”

“I…” Tyson thought for a moment. “I am not sure. But I will figure it out.”

“Well, you should probably figure that out before you go any further. Might give you some extra vision, you know?”

Tyson nodded, but said nothing.

Percy huffed. “Tyse, I’m gonna go to bed. You can sleep at your leisure, but I’m going to bed. Annabeth and I are leaving for New Rome tomorrow. You can stay in the cabin for as long as you need after that, okay?”

Another morose nod. “Okay, brother.”

“And cheer up, alright? You’ll make it right for her, I know it.”

Tyson nodded. “... Thank you. I will do my best.”


	18. Percabeth (and some Solangelo)- Broken Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy's problems best him sometimes. This is one of those times.

“Fucking dammit!” Will threw the Mario Kart controller at the ground in rage. Cecil rolled off the back of the sofa and groaned. 

Lou looked at him, giggling. “Need a hand, Marky?”

“I’m fine,” Cecil groaned. “Someone just make di Angelo stop beating us.”

“I will not stop beating you,” Nico announced proudly. “I will never stop beating you. If I die and you three hold a video game competition in my memory, my ghost will return and win all the games. You will just have to learn to live with that reality.”

“That is so fucking unfair,” Will laughed. He grabbed Nico around the waist and kissed his neck. 

Nico squirmed. “H-hey!”

Will laughed and rested his head on Nico’s shoulder, nuzzling his neck. There was a pause before someone knocked on the door. Will gently set Nico aside. “I’ll get it.” 

Will opened the door to see Percy Jackson standing on the other side. He was wearing an old camp T-shirt with bloodstains on it that looked two sizes too small on him and his hair was pushed to one side of his head like he’d been sleeping for twenty years. He hadn’t shaved, and he wasn’t wearing shoes. “Oh… Percy. Are you okay?”

Percy looked at him for a few seconds, a blank look on his face. “... Yes.” His voice was completely deadpan. “Can I borrow your typewriter?”

Will raised his eyebrows. “Why do you want it? Doesn’t Annabeth have a laptop?”

“Yeah. She just doesn’t ever let me use it.”

“Didn’t you buy it for her?” Will asked.

“... I did. Worked a night job at a McDonald’s in Queens to get the money for it too. She still never lets me use it.”

Will shook his head. “I’m so sorry, man. That isn’t fair. Yeah, you can borrow my typewriter, but am I allowed to know what you want to use it for?” He pulled Percy into the apartment and Percy leaned against the doorframe, looking around with wide, tired eyes.

Percy stared at Will, his green eyes dull. “... A letter.”

“Dude, just use Iris-message. Or did you want to send a letter with a package?” Will asked.

“... Yeah. Yeah. The second one. I’m sending… a late birthday present to my mother’s daughter. Yeah. That’s it. Her birthday was in March, but her present didn’t arrive until last week because Amazon sucks at delivering to here, so...”

“Okay, one, that’s _incredibly_ sketchy sounding, and two, isn’t your mother’s daughter the same as your sister?” Will questioned again.

“Yeah. Yeah, my little sister.”

“This sister have a name?” Will asked. He figured if the sister in question was a real person, then Percy was telling him the truth. Frankly, Percy’s dead eyes and disheveled appearance were worrying him.

“Yeah. Estelle. Her name is Estelle Blofis.”

“Okay, you’re fucking with me. There’s no one on the planet with the last name _Blowfish.”_

“No, it’s… there’s no _sh_ at the end. And it’s my stepfather’s last name,” Percy mumbled.

“... Oh. Well, I’m sorry, then. Yeah, you can borrow it. Just try to have it back by tonight, okay?” Will asked. “I need that thing for papers, I share my computer with three other people.”

“I understand. I’ll have it back to you in… in a minute.”

Percy took the machine and left for his apartment, which was next door to Will and the others’. He sat down on the old sofa in his living room, putting the typewriter on the table. Will, being the helpful person he was, had loaded some paper in there for him. He made a mental note to leave Will a few dollars in his will or something for when he died. Percy rationalized that Will was living with three (sometimes four) other people in a two-bedroom apartment, whereas Percy only had one roommate in his one-bedroom apartment and it was his girlfriend. So Percy figured that Will needed money more than him.

Percy stared at the keys. He didn’t know how to start. He’d pretty much lied through his teeth to be able to borrow this typewriter. He wasn’t going to send his little sister a birthday present. He’d done that last month, on her actual birthday. She’d just turned four years old.

_Dear Estelle,_

_Do I really want to start with her? She’ll be too young to remember me and understand what I’m about to do. Yeah, whatever. I’ll get them all eventually._

_Dear Estelle,_

_I just wanted to write this to say that I love you and that I couldn’t ask for a better baby sister. I know you won’t remember who I am or anything we ever did together, but just remember that I always cared about you, even when you_ _~~bugged the shit out of~~ _ _annoyed me. If anyone’s mean to you in your later life, tell them that your big brother’s ghost will haunt them for eternity. I love you, little star. Please don’t ever change._

_Be good to Mommy when I’m gone, okay?_

_Love,_

_Your brother Percy._

Percy’s eyes welled. He didn’t want to leave his family, but he couldn’t take any more of the nightmares and besides, they’d be better without him anyway. He’d always been the weakest link, the broken son. He had no idea why his mother had kept him. 

_Dear Mom,_

_Love of Poseidon’s trident, I’m sorry._

_I’m also sorry that you seem to think that I was one of the best things to ever happen to you. I know you’ve had very bad luck in your life. I think it’ll get better once I’m gone. Please just restart yourself as an amazing author with a beautiful daughter and forget that you ever had a son._

_I’m sorry. I love you so much. I hope you can bring yourself to understand someday why I’m doing this. I can’t take the nightmares anymore. I haven’t slept in weeks._

_I love you._

_Love and apologies,_

_Percy._

Percy wiped his eyes and looked down. Two completed letters. Who else would need one? Paul, probably. Annabeth as well. Grover? Maybe? 

_Grover’s gonna die with me. The empathy link’s gonna kill him as well._ Percy put his head in his hands. _Dionysus, commander of Satyrs, please keep Grover Underwood alive. Please. He still has work to do. He’s too young to die._

Percy concluded his prayer and took a deep breath.

_Dear Grover,_

_I have no idea how to say this. If you aren’t dead by now, just know that you were my oldest and greatest friend. I hope you go far. I hope you’re not too mad. I really care about you and about our friendship. Which is exactly why I’m ending my life and our friendship in the process._

_No, that was sarcasm. But I seriously do care about you. I lost sleep when you were alone at the Yancy shithole because I didn’t want anyone to beat the shit out of you. I made your life hell back then. You shouldn’t have tracked me there._

_I heard that Juniper is pregnant with your children. Twins. Congrats, man, congrats._

_Best wishes,_

_P-man. No wait, that sounds inappropriate._ _  
__Best wishes, G-man._

_-Percy_

Percy wiped his eyes again. Tears poured down his cheeks like a monsoon. Still two more at least. He didn’t know if he could do it without chickening out of the whole thing, but he figured that he had to. He put his fingers on the keys again.

_Paul,_

_I don’t have a lot to say here. Just that you were the closest thing I ever had to a father, and to please take the best care you can of Mom and Estelle. I’m sorry for what I did. Please make sure Estelle doesn’t totally forget me. I don’t want her to forget me. I love her._

_Peace,_

_Percy_

This next one would be the hardest one. Percy gulped back a sob and continued.

_Dearest Annabeth,_

_I love you. I love you. I’m sorry. There’s a present under my side of the mattress for you. I never got the stones to give it to you before._

_I hope you can understand why I did this. I can’t take it. You were always stronger than me. Please. The “never separated again” shit doesn’t apply here. Don’t kill yourself just because I did. I love you and I don’t want you to get hurt._

_Feel free to date other people once I’m gone. Hopefully you’ll get someone better than me, which is what you deserve._

_I have no doubt that you will be able to support yourself in my absence. You are a strong and beautiful woman and you have all of my respect. In fact, you’ll do better without having to support your deadbeat-ass boyfriend._

_Love and kisses,_

~~_Percy_~~ _Your Seaweed Brain._

He took a breath. It came out shaky and wobbly. He hugged himself and wiped his eyes.

_To Piper, I’m sorry we don’t talk much anymore since Jason died._

_To Frank, you were one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. Please never change._

_To Hazel, you were an oasis of kindness in a desert of pure cruelty when I had lost all my memories. I owe you a debt that’s impossible to repay._

_To Will, thanks for all of your help with Nico and with Annabeth during the Battle of Manhattan. In return, I’m giving you the full cash value of my savings, equal to about $125. Annabeth can take care of herself. She’s a very strong woman. She doesn’t need it._

_To Nico… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the times I was short with you. I’m sorry for all the times I failed to notice that you were suffering. I’m sorry for all the bad things I ever thought about you and all the times I got you injured or in trouble or hurt you accidentally. But most of all…_

_I’m sorry for Bianca._

_To the Stolls, you two were the most irritating and proficient pranksters I’ve ever met. Once again, never change._

_To Chiron, please never stop helping, sheltering and training demigods. Gods know we need it._

_To Leo, I’m sorry for always being so short with you. I was really just stressed all those times I yelled at you. Take care of Calypso, if she lets you._

_To Rachel, thank you for assisting my peace of mind so much during the months leading up to the Battle of Manhattan. I could have gone insane if not for you._

_To Calypso, I’m sorry that I wasn’t the one who could free you from your island prison. I’m just glad you’re free now._

_To Lady Hestia, thank you for being the only deity who was ever truly nice to me._

_No thanks to any of the other gods. You made my life hell. I hope losing your greatest weapon to his own hand might make you a little more inclined to treat your children better so that none of the others do this._

Percy sucked a breath, folded up the notes and put them on his dresser. Annabeth would find those when she got home from class, and by then, it’d be too late for her to stop him. He threw on a hoodie and shoes and stumbled out of the apartment building, wobbling over to the hulking, rusted shadow of his VW Bus. He flopped down in the front seat, turned the key and the car wheezed to life, the ancient engine making a sound not unlike that of a cat with a hairball. He maneuvered the creaky vehicle to city limits and parked. It would only be a five minute walk from here.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Rule Flouter in the flesh. Here to pick up your sword?”

“Shut it, Terminus.” Percy growled, glaring at the offending god. He grabbed Riptide and shoved it down into his pants pocket. “Thanks, Julia.”

The ten-year-old nodded.

“If I had hands, I would be flipping you off right now,” Terminus shot back in response to Percy.

“I bet you would. I’ve gotta go now.” Percy turned and walked away. He heard Terminus shout something at him from behind, but he didn’t listen. He’d be dead in ten minutes anyway, he didn’t need to worry about curses.

Meanwhile, Will was beginning to worry. Percy should have returned his typewriter by now. “Nico?”

“Mhm?” They were still playing video games, although Cecil had ragequit. 

“Did Percy seem okay to you? He seemed off to me. Just really depressed. Did you pick up on that?” Will asked.

“No, he didn’t seem okay, but Percy gets that way sometimes. Besides, Annabeth told me that he hasn’t been sleeping well. That could be it.”

“Yeah, but… it didn’t seem that way to me. I mean… he…”

Nico looked at him intently. “You felt it, didn’t you.”

Will nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. It was just… rolling off of him in waves. He’s so stressed, Nico, and I don’t think it’s just because of college. That could be a factor, yes, but I don’t think it’s the main issue. I think… I mean… the thing I always said about Percy was that it always seemed that he was carrying a huge load that he couldn’t hold himself and couldn’t ever tell anyone about. Really, he’s seemed that way for years. But… this seemed really bad, Nico. This seemed really, really bad.”

“I mean, what do you want to do? Go out and find him and bring him back here? And even if you can get him to come back with you, what are you gonna do with him once he’s here? How do you plan on helping him?”

“I-I don’t know. But I have to try and do something. I’m sorry, but I can’t just let him suffer and die.”

Nico scoffed. “He isn’t going to die, Solace. Insomnia never killed anyone.”

“Actually, you can die from lack of sleep, but it’s really difficult to do. Usually you just pass out before anything bad happens,” Will informed.

“I did not know that. Well then, angst and personal issues can’t kill anyone.”

"Yes, but suicide has.”

Nico rolled his eyes. “You’re too melodramatic. Yeah, he’s having a bad day, that’s obvious; but he’s gonna be fine. He’ll go to bed tonight, get some real sleep and feel better tomorrow.”

Will sighed. “Normally I’d say that’s true, but I think there’s something more going on here. I’m gonna go try and see if I can’t find him.”

Nico sighed, threw up his hands and said “Fine. Go find him.”

“Why are you upset?” Will asked. “I just want to help him.”

Nico sighed. “I… I know.”

“So what upsets you about that?”

Nico looked down. “I… um… I just feel like… what’s Percy ever been through to make him want to die?”

“Suicidal thoughts just happen sometimes. Sometimes they just kind of come out of nowhere. Besides, you can’t compare the suffering of other people to that of your own. Everyone has their own issues and most can’t really compare to that of others effectively. With Percy, I really think he has some level of survivor’s guilt or something. I mean, it would make sense, considering what I know he’s been through.”

“What’s survivor’s guilt?”

“It’s where you’ve been through something terrible and seen other people die and you feel so bad that they died that you kind of wish it had been you.”

“Oh, That makes sense.” Nico paused, all of the salt that had been in him before gone. “... So… what are you gonna do now?”

“I was gonna go find him.”

Nico sighed. “... All right. Go.”

Will kissed his cheek. “Okay, Don’t forget that I love you, okay?”

Nico smiled. “I’ll remember if you put one on my lips.”

Will smiled and obliged, leaning in for a quick one before pulling away. “Now do you remember?”

“I think so, but tell me one more time.”

“I love you.”

Nico laughed. “I love you too, Sunny Boy. Now go find Jackson.”

Will nodded and started for the door. “I will. See you in a mo.”

Percy lay down on the cool grass behind Lou and Cecil’s shop and took off his hoodie. His back and rear immediately became cold, but he didn’t care. He uncapped Riptide and took one final look at the blade. What would happen to it once he was gone? Would it disappear permanently? Would the gods take it back and hold it for the next demigod who was destined to fulfill a Great Prophecy? Percy laughed as he imagined some poor twelve year old newbie suddenly freaking out when he realized that he couldn’t get rid of it. _Well, buddy,_ he thought. _You’ve probably been my best friend this whole time. I hope your next owner is good to you._

Sitting up, he took the blade and positioned it near his stomach, facing up. If he fell forwards, it would gouge through his abs, under his ribs and pierce his heart. He took a breath, wobbled back and forth, and…

… screamed. Screamed into the abyss. His body was locked, something was preventing him from falling over. He couldn’t take the last step. He pushed himself onto his knees and leaned forwards, his vision blurring, Riptide poking his gut. He moaned as the sword began to cut his flesh. _I deserve this. I have this coming. ‘T least that’s what they all said…_

Percy took a breath and began to fall forwards.

“Percy, no! What are you… what are you doing, man? Stop!” Someone grabbed him and pulled the blade out of his gut. In the end, it had only gone in an inch or two. Percy made a whimpering noise and went limp as the sword was pulled away. He knew he had done _something;_ the blood was running down his stomach and was staining his clothes. He was shaking. “Hey, hey, i-it’s okay. Can you look at me, Percy? How bad are you? Hey, look at me.” But Percy couldn’t move. “Per-Percy? Please, let me know you’re okay. Can you move? Or-or speak? I know you’re alive.” 

_Why won’t this guy stop talking?_ “Sh-shut up,” Percy mumbled weakly. “Just… shut up.”

“Oh… sorry… just trying to help.” 

_Sonofabitch._ “Will? Why…? Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll tell Annabeth to return your damn typewriter. Shoulda done it before I came here, sorry.” Percy rolled out and lay on his back, his wound stinging. 

“Fuck the typewriter, Jackson! This isn’t about the typewriter. This is about the fact that you were _this close to killing yourself_ when I found you! The typewriter can be replaced if it has to, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my nineteen years of watching everyone I know and love get horrendously injured and/or killed, it’s that you can’t replace a person.” Will pressed a rag against Percy’s bleeding abs. “No one could replace you, Percy. No one. Okay? Now, I’m sure you have a good reason for doing what you’re doing, but I’m just gonna tell you up front, no one sees it but you.”

Percy growled. “I said, _shut up.”_

Will huffed, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he blotted the wound with a cloth soaked in nectar and began to stitch the wound closed with sterile thread from his med kit. Percy didn’t know exactly how much Will and his med kit were prepared for, but he was in no position to question it. When he finished, he wrapped the wound in clean bandages. _I wonder how many times he’s done this. He really has stitching/bandaging distilled down to an art._

Percy sat up, painfully. “Are you gonna leave me alone now, or what?”

Will shook his head. “No! No, I’m not! Because if I do, you’ll kill yourself, and no one wants that.” 

Percy scoffed. “Heh. Are you sure about that? Like, absolutely sure?”

“Well… no… but…”

“Exactly, so shut the fuck up.”

“Fine!” Will snapped. “Kill yourself. See if I care.” He threw Riptide at Percy and stood up. “I’m gonna go back and explain to Annabeth that her boyfriend is dead, and that he killed himself, and that he refused all attempts to help him _not_ kill himself. I’ll see you in Elysium- probably in just a few hours, after she purees me.” 

Percy took Riptide in his hand and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Will hadn’t left yet.

“I said, I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling,” Percy said, his voice almost a moan.

Will looked down at Percy, and something changed. “No, man. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped. That was really stupid of me. Please forgive me.” He sat down next to Percy and patted his shoulder. “Hug it out?”

Percy shrugged consent. The two boys enjoyed a thoroughly awkward, back-patting hug before they separated. Percy shivered and hugged himself. “I miss Annabeth.”

“Do you think she’s home yet?” Will asked. “I know she has class this afternoon.”

“She was gonna go to class and then do a little work for Frank as part of some service thing or other. She said she’d be home by five. Is it five yet?”

Will shrugged. “When I left our clock said four-fifteen. It’s probably four-thirty or four-forty-five now.”

“... Oh… okay…”

“Do you want me to walk you back to your car?” Will asked gently. 

“I walked here. My car’s at city limits.”

“Okay. You want me to walk back there with you?”

Percy nodded. They stood up and began the walk back to the car. Terminus scowled at them as Percy put his sword in the bin. 

“Okay, what did you do?” Will asked as they passed city limits. 

“Nothing. Terminus is just an asshole, that’s what.”

“He’s a _god._ Show some respect, even if it’s just so you don’t get cursed,” Will responded.

Percy gritted his teeth. “He’s a minor god. What could he possibly do?”

“Boot you out of New Rome?” Will responded incredulously.

Percy didn’t respond. 

“I’m sorry,” Will said quietly. “I’m upsetting you, aren’t I?”

"Little bit.”

“I’m sorry,” Will said. He patted Percy’s back. “It’s gonna be okay. You made it this far. Don’t give up now, okay?”

Percy closed his eyes and shook his head. 

Will stopped. “Seriously, Jackson, you can’t give up on your life like this. I don’t care if you drop out of school, dump Annabeth, run away, do whatever but you have to keep living.”

Percy squoze his eyes shut. “Why?” His voice sounded fragile and broken. 

Will put a hand on his shoulder. “Because you’re a hero, Percy. Do you have any idea how upset everybody would be if you died? I mean, everybody loves you. I mean… you’re _Percy Fucking Jackson,_ dude! You’re amazing!”

“I… uh… thanks,” Percy croaked, forcing the words through the enormous lump in his throat.

“You’re welcome,” Will replied. “Is this your car?”

“The old, shitty one? Yeah, that’s my car.”

Will laughed. _He’s got a nice laugh,_ Percy thought lazily. His mind wasn’t working that well. “Well,” Will said, flashing his typical wide smile. “I’m glad you can always find it.”

Percy unlocked the door. “You want me to drive? Do you even have your license?”

“Yeah. I learned before I left camp. Here, I can drive. You’re not… you should relax. I’ll drive,” Will insisted. 

Percy looked down and closed his eyes. “...Thanks.” He slumped into the passenger seat and watched Will start his car; it felt like watching someone raise a zombie. 

"For what?” Will asked.

“... For driving, I guess,” Percy mumbled.

“Of course,” Will said, smiling gently. “I’m a healer, man. It’s my job to help people if they need it.”

“... I know.”

Will guessed that his words had not soothed the son of Poseidon. “... Not that I wouldn’t still help you if I wasn’t a healer.”

Percy squoze his eyes tighter. _As if._

They drove in silence for a few minutes. Will hummed softly and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Percy almost thought he sounded nervous.

“So…” Will said, attempting conversation. “How’s Annabeth?”

Percy shrugged lifelessly. “She’s fine.”

Will nodded. “That’s good. How… how’s your mom? Is she all right?”

Percy gritted his teeth and choked back a cry, managing a nod and hoping Will wouldn’t notice how close he was to the edge. 

Will noticed. “... Did something happen to her?”

“No.” Percy’s voice broke. “No.”

“... You came pretty close to leaving her for the afterlife, you know.”

Percy took a deep, shaky breath. “... I know. I’m sorry.”

Will sighed and pulled over onto a side street, stopping the car. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

“But it is. I almost left her for good.” Percy’s lip trembled and his voice cracked. He was slumped down in his seat.

“I know what you did, but let’s be honest with ourselves. The issue with you now is that you can’t control your mind. You’re not in a good state of mind right now, and you’re so far gone that you’re losing it. If I was your mother or Annabeth, I would have you committed. That’s the truth. I’m sorry for how bad it sounds.”

“I don’t want to be committed.” Percy wanted it to sound final, but it came out as a tiny whimper.

“I know. I’m not going to try and commit you. I _will_ , however, try to keep you safe at any cost. I’ll take you back home but I cannot, will not and do not want to leave you alone. Understand?”

Percy closed his eyes, trying to alleviate the spinning in his head. _You’re a fucking pussy, crying like this. What are you, five? You’re a little bitch. God, so repulsive. You might as well put a fucking pacifier in your mouth at this point, you’re such a baby._ “Yeah… yeah. I understand,” he muttered through the haze of self-hatred.

Will nodded. “Good. One more thing, are you… are you gonna be able to hold it together until we get home?” 

Percy didn’t respond. _You’re a disgusting excuse for a man. Why does Annabeth love you? Why does anyone? She should have wound up with Luke. She just should have. You should have died in the Battle of Manhattan, she should never have taken that knife for you._

“Percy?” Will asked again, nervously. He could see the tension in the other man’s body, the clench in his jaw, the way his eyes were squeezed shut. “Percy? Can you hear me?”

Percy nodded.

“Are you okay? Will you be okay? Do I need… what do I need to do to help you?”

“Shut up!” Percy snapped. “Just _fucking shut up!”_

Will nodded. He started the car moving again. He’d pried too hard, he knew, and he had probably only made things worse. Yes, it was out of desperation to help, but it had still failed. 

Will took a heavy breath, swallowed his pain of rejection and drove back to their apartment building in silence. 

Percy was going to be sick. Will parked and got out, but Percy couldn’t will himself to move from his seat. He’d thought he wanted Annabeth, but now that he was close to her he was terrified to face her. _Oh, well. If she chews me out at least I’ll have a reason to kill myself, and if she puts a knife in my gut I’ll be dead anyway, so it doesn’t matter._

 _You know what, maybe I will just put myself in hospital. Bed to sleep in, relative quiet, no work, no angry and disappointed friends and family. Sounds like a dream._

“Percy?” Will asked. “Are you getting out?”

Percy gave a halfhearted shrug. 

“Don’t you want to go in and go home?”

“No,” Percy whispered. “No.”

Will sat back down in the driver’s seat next to him. “Why not?”

“I can’t face her.”

Will didn’t even need to ask who that was. “You want to come back to my place?”

“You- no, not really. Your place always…”

“Too many people?” Will asked.

“Yeah,” Percy admitted. “They’re good people, but… I just can’t face anyone right now.”

Will paused. “... How about this. I’ll explain the situation to Annabeth and you can rest, okay?”

Percy gave an apathetic nod. 

“Okay. Good. Now come on. I think you should get some rest. You’re… emotionally exhausted.” Will’s voice was gentle, and it made Percy want to do whatever he said. 

Percy stood up and stumbled into the apartment. His feet wouldn’t cooperate with his brain. Will helped him up into the elevator and into his apartment. He was immediately greeted with a shrill shriek of “Percy!”

“Annabeth,” Will cut in, cutting them both off. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

“Sure,” Annabeth stuttered, all of her prior fire gone. “Just… just letting you know, Percy, I found your letters.”

 _Shit._ Percy entered their room and sat on the edge of the bed before immediately springing back up again and pacing back and forth across the room. He was too nervous to sit. Maybe he shouldn’t have written any notes. But then again, he couldn’t have forgiven himself if he’d left without a word either. _There really is no right way to kill yourself._

A few minutes passed before Will came back. “Alright, I’ve told her everything I know.”

“She’s pissed, isn’t she?” The words sprung from Percy’s lips before he could stop them.

“... Not really. She’s unhappy, but she’s not screaming or throwing things, if that’s what you meant.”

“... Unhappy.” Percy sat down on the bed again and put his head in his hands. “Unhappy. You might as well have signed my death sentence.”

"Percy, she loves you. She’s concerned for you and your safety. And I told her to be gentle on you, so hopefully that’ll make her think about how she goes about talking to you.” Will turned to leave the room. “Also, if you’re actually scared of your partner, then the relationship is no good.”

“... Everyone’s scared of her, though,” Percy mumbled weakly.

“Not an excuse, Jackson.”

Percy’s chest tightened. “... I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything. Look, I told her to be gentle. I told her how intimidating she can come off as well. Hopefully she’ll be calm. Do you want me to wait in the living room?”

 _Yes, please._ “No, it’s okay. I can handle… whatever she does, I can handle it.”

“Okay. Remember, I’m right next door. If you need to get away, I’ll help you out. If you need the hospital, I’ll drive you. Okay?”

 _I don’t deserve him._ “Okay… okay.”

“Good. See you around, Jackson.” Will turned and left. Percy sank his head into his arms, shaking his head. 

Another moment passed before Percy heard a soft tap at the door, so tiny he barely registered it. “Yeah?” 

Annabeth poked her head in. Percy peeked up at her through his shaggy hair, barely moving his head.

She was _trembling._

Percy’s breath choked in his throat and he quickly hid his face. “... I’m sorry.” His stomach turned and his head spun. 

“... I… _why?”_ She ran to his side and grabbed him, pulling him against her chest. “Why? Percy, why?” 

Percy choked back a cry and pressed his face into her collarbone. “... I’m sorry… I’m sorry… Annabeth, I’m so sorry… I really am. I’m sorry.” His words choked in his throat and he gritted his teeth. Disgust squirmed snakelike through his throat and chest and settled in the pit of his belly. _I’m a pig. A rotten little no-good pig._

Annabeth buried her face in Percy’s hair and let a few tears of her own fall. “It’s… Percy, I forgive you. You’re forgiven. I know you’re… you’re in pain. I can see it in your eyes. I’m not mad.”

There was a long pause. Percy swallowed hard and growled. “... I want to puke.”

“Do you think you’re going to?”

“I don’t know.” _You can’t puke the filth out of a human soul, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t tempting._

“Tell me if you are.” Annabeth kissed the crown of his head and rocked him back and forth. “I love you dearly but that doesn’t mean I want you to barf on me.”

Percy nodded. His hands twitched. 

“It’s okay,” Annabeth murmured. “I know you’re upset. You want me to get the punching bag? Would that help?”

Percy pulled away and nodded. “Here, I can do it.”

Annabeth nodded and watched as Percy dragged the punching bag out of the closet and hooked it to the ceiling. He attacked it with an incredible savagery, beating it with bare fists like he had just watched it shoot his mother in front of him. Annabeth hugged her knees to her chest and watched. 

Some time later (a few minutes? An hour? Annabeth didn’t know), Percy stumbled away and flopped down on his knees, panting. His shirt had been thrown aside some time ago and sweat was pouring down his back. “Percy…?” Annabeth murmured in a small voice.

"... Yeah. Yeah,” he wheezed. 

"Are you okay?”

“Out of breath,” he gasped. 

“Knuckles okay?”

“Raw,” he mumbled. “Scrubbed raw.”

"Let me see,” she insisted, running over to where he was. His knuckles were red, puffy with spots of blood oozing out of them. “Well, they don’t look broken or dislocated, so that’s good. Just… _please_ wear gloves next time.”

“I couldn’t find them.”

“Then what are these?” Annabeth asked, pointing a pair of boxing gloves on the floor of the closet that Percy had never bothered to close. 

“... Fuck.” Percy’s heart twisted again. 

Annabeth laughed. “No, it’s fine. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

"Did… did my mom extract a promise out of you for that?”

Annabeth stroked Percy’s palm and kissed his bloody knuckles. “Actually, no. I’m doing it because I want to. Your mom only started telling me to keep you safe because I started trying to do it myself.”

Percy’s heart was on shaky ground. “... I… I… you… I…”

“Started trying to keep you from dying because I care about you, yes.”

Percy’s eyes stung and his mouth hung open. He couldn’t speak. Annabeth squoze him and closed his mouth. “Gods, it’s like no one’s ever done anything nice for you before,” she chuckled.

“Sorry, sorry,” Percy finally croaked. “Just… a little choked up.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.” Annabeth kissed his cheek. "Now let's get you bandaged up, okay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the first draft of this about 1.5 years ago. It's been edited slightly since, but never really did have a good ending, which is why the ending still isn't that great.


	19. Non-shippy (some Chrisse)- Where You Go Every Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarisse has been leaving the cabin every night since Manhattan, and she won't tell anyone where she goes. Sherman decides to take it into his own hands to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This also takes place very shortly after Manhattan, probably around the same time period as "His Girl."  
> Sorry if that wasn't initially clear.

“Where do you go every night now?”

Clarisse peered over the edge of her bunk. “None of your business.”

Sherman noticed that her eyes looked a little red. “Okay, okay, sorry. I was just curious.” He paused. “... I’m assuming you’re leaving for this none-of-my-business in a moment?”

Clarisse crawled down out of her bunk. She tied her cloak around her shoulders and shoved her feet into her black military boots. “Yes, actually. I may be back before curfew, I may not be. I may not be back at all. Either way, it’s none of your business.” She turned and stalked out of the cabin, letting the door slam in her wake.

Sherman turned to Ellis. “Where do you think she goes? I mean, really, what is even that important to her?”

“Dude, she’s just out somewhere necking with Chris. She just doesn’t want to admit it is all.” Ellis shook his head. 

Sherman stood up. “I want to follow her. See what she does.”

“So you want to see her with her tongue down Chris’s throat?”

“No, I just don’t think that that’s what’s going on.”

Ellis shook his head. “Gods help us all if you ever become Head Counselor.” He stood up. “Fine. I’ll go with you. Don’t blame me when they find us tomorrow in little tiny pieces with our heads on stakes.”

Sherman huffed. “Way to overreact, dude.” He stood up and pulled on his shoes. “Glad you’re at least coming with.”

They left the cabin. Sherman saw Clarisse’s figure halfway across the cabin main. He trailed her silently, Ellis on his heels. She walked alone through the cabin main and across the grounds to the Big House. 

Once she was inside, Sherman turned to Ellis. “She’s alone. Still. So… no necking yet.”

Ellis rolled his eyes. “They're waiting for each other, dumbass.”

Sherman didn’t dignify that with a response. He trailed her into the Big House. She walked through the house and right past Chiron in the living room. Chiron didn’t even say anything to her. Sherman and Ellis entered a second after she left the room and Chiron looked up. “Where are you two headed?”

“To the showers,” Sherman responded instantly. 

Chiron nodded. “Okay. I won’t hold you up, then.”

Sherman nodded. “Thank you.” He pulled Ellis out of the room in time to see Clarisse duck into a door at the end of the hallway. 

“Wait, I thought that door led to a closet,” Ellis whispered. 

“I have no idea.” Sherman snuck close to the door. Clarisse had left it ajar. He peered inside. “Dude, there’s stairs. I think it leads to a basement. I’m goin’ down.” Sherman started down the stairs.

“I’ll wait here so if your head gets kicked up the stairs minus the rest of you at least  _ one _ of us will live.”

Sherman turned. “Why are you so negative?”

“Common fucking sense,” Ellis grumbled, following Sherman. They snuck into the suffocating darkness of the basement. The only light came from the crack of the door at the top of the stairs. They hid behind a stack of boxes they could only barely see and listened.

Two voices were talking quietly. 

“... Are you okay?” 

“... I’ll live.” 

“I know you’ll make it, but I’m still worried about you. Especially after… you know.”

“Shut up.”  _ Shit.  _ That was Clarisse. Her voice was cracking. Sherman shifted, holding his breath. 

“... Okay,” replied the other voice. Sherman assumed it was Chris. “I just… don’t hurt yourself, okay? You made a mistake. You couldn’t have known that what happened would happen.”

Clarisse sniffled. “It was my fault. My bad leadership. My… my  _ armor.  _ She was… she was wearing my armor, Chris!” A sob choked out of her throat.

Sherman turned to Ellis. In the dim light of the basement, Ellis could only barely make out Sherman’s eyes, which had gone as wide as dinner plates. Sherman’s lips moved.  _ Oh, shit. _

_ We shouldn’t be here, _ Ellis returned.  _ Clarisse is gonna kill us if she finds out we saw her cry. _

Sherman nodded hastily. They stood up and tiptoed the hell out of there.

An hour later, someone knocked on the door of the Ares cabin.

Sherman stood up and opened it. Chris was standing there with a protective arm slung around Clarisse’s shoulders. “Hey, Sherman. I’m here to return your sister.” Clarisse was wrapped in her cloak almost childishly. Her face was expressionless.

“Chris,” Sherman nodded. “Come in.”

Chris came in. Clarisse made a beeline for her footlocker, pulling out an ornate wooden box before climbing up into her bunk. The box that held her knife collection. Chris watched her with a pained expression, but said nothing. “... So… you all right?” Chris asked. 

Sherman flopped into his bunk. “Could be better. You know, if half the cabin weren’t dead.”

Chris nodded. “... Yeah, I… I’m so sorry, man. I… I mean, Luke tricked us all. He made us all think that… that  _ he  _ was the good guy. That he wouldn’t do something like this.”

Sherman nodded. “I mean, duh. That’s how these types of assholes work.”

Chris nodded. He was quiet for a long time. 

Clarisse suddenly spoke. “I’m giving the chariot back to Apollo.”

Sherman raised an eyebrow. “Fuck do you want to do that?”

“I don’t want it anymore. Things are nasty after they get people killed.”

“So blow it up or something. Don’t just forfeit it.”

“Do you really want to fight me on this?” Clarisse’s voice was low and cold. “Is it really worth your while to get yourself hurt over a chariot you can’t even drive?”

“... No, ma’am,” Sherman relented, grumbling. “And I can too drive the chariot.”

“Don’t care. I’m forking it over to Will Solace as soon as he comes back to camp for a weekend or something. That’s my final decision, no more bullshit, no more nothing.”

Sherman huffed.  _ I know she’s in pain, but she shouldn’t just fucking give up. That’s just stupid.  _ “... Fine.”

There was a long silence. Sherman heard Clarisse fiddling with her knifebox. He didn’t have the energy to ask her what she was doing. He buried his head in his pillow and closed his eyes. 

Sherman heard Chris stand up. “... Clarisse?”

“What?” Her voice sounded dull.

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. I will.”

Chris nodded. “Okay,” he whispered. “Tell me if you need anything, okay?” His voice was tinged with melancholy. 

“Will do,” Clarisse sighed. 

With that, Chris turned and left the cabin, leaving Clarisse alone with the boys who, unknown to her, had seen her in a way she had never wanted to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruh, I be posting cringe? No, u be posting cringe.


	20. Non-shippy-"You're Pathetic When You Cry"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's having some problems. Clarisse feels sorry for him. Clarisse is also having her own problems. Hurt/comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a continuation of the last drabble, the one where Clarisse says she's gonna meet with Will re: chariot.

Clarisse banged on the door of the Apollo cabin. It creaked open slowly and a small, terrified face peeked out. 

“Kayla,” she started gently. For once, she hadn’t come looking for a fight. “Where’s your brother?”

“Which one?” she replied in a tiny voice.

“Will,” Clarisse replied. She’d almost forgotten that they’d got a new Apollo kid. He hadn’t seemed too interesting, so she’d just kind of written him into the sidelines of her mind. She didn’t even think they’d tried to stick his head in a toilet or anything.

“... He’s not here.”

“Is he in the infirmary?”

“... I don’t think so. He said he wanted some time alone.”

Clarisse shrugged. “Okay. It’s not urgent. Tell him I want to see him before end of day.”

Kayla nodded and shut the door. Clarisse turned and left. Come to think of it, she could use some time as well. She didn’t think her head had stopped spinning in the entire two months or so since… 

_ Shit.  _ Her stomach flopped. She almost fell over. Her mind flashed back to Silena’s mutilated face and she tripped, stumbling heavily into the Ares-cabin bathroom they’d just finished building and puking her guts out. She could feel Sherman and Ellis’s eyes on her back; they were staring at her. She raised one trembling hand and gave them the finger.

It was a few minutes before she got control over her stomach. Her throat burned. She leaned heavily against the wall, shaking, not daring to close her eyes. She didn’t want to see something that would send her back into fits. She swallowed back some more acid and pushed her way to her feet, slowly, painfully. Was it colder than usual? She couldn’t stop shaking. She drank some cold water from the tap, which barely helped at all with her throat, and brushed her teeth, which would at least help with her breath. Finally, she looked back at the doorway. She could see Sherman and Ellis duck out of the way as she turned around. 

She made a mental note to kick their asses once she stopped shaking.

She emerged from the bathroom. Sherman stared at her. “... You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Clarisse growled. “I’m gonna go get some nectar.”

Sherman nodded. Fortunately, he didn’t say anything. Clarisse left the Ares cabin on slightly shaky legs with her cloak wrapped tightly around her. She made her way to the back of the cabin and pushed through a hole in the barbed wire, flopping against the wall behind the odd-numbered cabins. 

She gave herself a moment to recover. The fall air was sweet and cool. She opened her mouth to let the air soothe the burning in her throat. It felt good for the minute or two before it cut through her cloak and made her shiver.  _ I shouldn’t have stormed out without my coat. It’s cold as balls out here. And my throat STILL hurts. _

She closed her eyes for a moment and imagined that Chris was out there with her. She missed his warm body against hers. Granted, he wasn’t impossible to find, he was just somewhere in the Hermes cabin, but in Clarisse’s state that seemed a mile away.

She suddenly heard a soft sniffling sound from a little ways away. She opened her eyes halfway. She could faintly see a golden blob behind the Apollo cabin.

It was Will Solace.

She stood up, less shakily this time, and stumbled towards him. “Solace?”

He looked up. His face was a mess of tears and snot. His eyes widened in fear when he saw her. “... Clarisse,” he whispered. 

She knelt down to be on his level. “Uh… I just wanted to tell you that… the chariot is yours now. I don’t want it anymore. Things are nasty once people have died for ‘em.” Another shot of nausea filled her stomach when she said it. “And… do you have any nectar?”

Will wiped his eyes. They got teary again almost immediately. “... Is someone hurt?”

She sat down crosslegged in front of him, leaning back against the wall in the tiny little alleyway. “No. I just don’t feel very well.”

He passed her an ambrosia square and leaned his head back into his knees. The burn in Clarisse’s throat eased as she ate. She scanned Will with her eyes. Gods, he looked pathetic like this, curled in on himself with tears running into his ratty sweatpants. 

It was enough to make Clarisse take pity on him. 

“... You okay?” she asked stupidly.

“I’ll be fine,” he replied, breathlessly, shakily. 

Clarisse reached out and ruffled his hair. “... I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. For once.”

Clarisse didn’t respond to that. “... Should I go find that Hermes kid you’re always with?”

“Cecil doesn’t deserve to have to mop me up again,” Will sniffled. “He’s too good of a friend.”

Clarisse didn’t know how to respond. She shifted. “... Is there anything I should do?”

Will looked up at her. His pale blue eyes stood out brilliantly against his ruby-red sclera. “... I don’t know,” he whimpered.

“Do you… like…” Clarisse was a little lost for words. She beckoned. “Get over here.”

Will started but obeyed, his eyes wide. He shrunk against the wall next to her, flat-out jumping when Clarisse put an arm around his shoulder. 

“Hey,” Clarisse soothed. “I’m not going to stab you.”

Will relaxed a little. Clarisse pulled him into a hug, ruffling his hair. “You’re pathetic when you cry.”

“... I’m sorry,” Will hiccuped.

“Not in a bad way. In a cute way,” Clarisse reassured. 

Will sniffled, nesting his head in her shoulder. Clarisse stroked his hair. His hair was soft. She could feel the tremors racking Will’s body as he cried himself out. She didn’t know what to do. The only man who’d ever cried in front of her before was Chris, and she knew him so well that it didn’t feel awkward at all. “... I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

Will sniffled. “... It’s okay. Not your fault.”

“I know. I just… I feel bad when I see you cry like this. It’s… as I said, it’s kind of pathetic.”

He wiped his eyes, pulling away so he was sitting almost in her lap. “I… I know, I just… it’s been a bad few months.” He took a breath and held it, closing his eyes as a few more tears leaked out. Clarisse could see the pain in his eyes when he did so. “Also, I… I’m a year-rounder now.”

“... You weren’t before?” Clarisse asked.

“... No.”

Clarisse thought it would be better not to press. “... I’m sorry.”

“That wasn’t your fault either,” Will gasped. 

Clarisse pet his hair some more. “... Do you want me to go?”

He closed his eyes, looking slightly more peaceful. “... Only if you want to. I know you aren’t feeling well…”

“I’m okay. I’ll live.” Clarisse ruffled his hair. 

Will leaned against her for another moment, letting a few more tears slip out before melting into her. “... Thanks. I don’t know why you’re being so nice all of a sudden but… thanks.”

Clarisse nodded. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t,” Will responded. He studied her face. “... How are you doing? Are you okay? Are you sick? I mean, because you asked me for the ambrosia and all…”

Clarisse once again noticed how painfully bloodshot his eyes looked. “... I’ll live. I just…” She couldn’t verbalize it properly. Was there any way to properly verbalize seeing your best friend get killed in front of you?

“You’re still messed up from…”

“Yeah.”

Will looked intently into her eyes. “Here, I can help with that, I think. I mean… because you were so nice to me.”

Clarisse cocked her head. “Oh… thank you.”

“No problem.” Will leaned in for another hug. Clarisse wrapped him in her arms, closing her eyes and smiling.  _ Aww, he’s being cute. He’s hugging me as a repayment. _

Then she felt something that almost made her cry out. Hot relief burned through her chest, stronger than an orgasm, the strongest she’d ever felt. It knocked the wind out of her. She gasped and her eyes shot open, relieved tears dripping down her cheeks. She saw Silena, healthy, happy, whole. Not mutilated on the ground. 

As soon as she caught her breath, she gasped out “... What…  _ was… _ that?”

Will pulled away. Clarisse noticed that he looked somewhat shaky and sad. “I… I can take on some of someone’s pain if they need. I… I figured… it would be a good way to repay you.”

“... Thank you,” Clarisse said breathlessly. “... It was… it was really good. Thank you.”

Will leaned into her. “... You’re welcome.”

Clarisse gently patted his back. “You okay?”

Will nodded. “I’ll live. Nothing I don’t deal with too. Also… thank you for the chariot.”

“No problem. It’s fine.” 

Will stood up. He wiped his eyes. “I should go check on the infirmary.”

“Okay. You do that. Also… don’t tell anyone about what happened here. I have a rep to keep,” Clarisse insisted.

“Okay. Can I at least tell Austin and Kay about the chariot?”

_ Oh,  _ that’s  _ his name.  _ “Yeah, sure. Just say we had a meeting and I forked it over.”

Will nodded. “Will do.” He walked off, leaving Clarisse leaning against the wall, her chest and abdomen tender with relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to wake up in like 4 hours for school lol


	21. Solangelo-Mama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Nico feels like everything's out to get him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another old one of mine. It's sort of a sequel for Blinded (which is new, but I had the idea for a long time before writing it), but you don't have to read Blinded in order to understand this.

Hazel Levesque woke up to the sound of her brother's cries. She sat up to look at the bed across the room. Nico was crying out in a language she could barely understand. She crawled into his bed and curled up next to him. He buried his face in her hair, and she could feel him shaking. Nico jerked his head up, pulling in precious air between his cries. Hazel patted his back. He sat up and cried out again, but this time his voice was audible and clear enough to understand. Hazel didn't speak Italian, but she got the general gist of it.  _ Why did it have to happen? Why? It's all his fault. You were innocent, ____.  _ (Hazel didn't quite get that word, it was obscured by Nico’s cracking voice)  _ Are the gods only out to hurt us? We hurt and hurt and hurt, endlessly, for what purpose? Mama, did you ever figure it out? Or did he never give you that chance? Why are they like this? They… they torture us because we saw them for all their-their pettiness, Mama, right?  _ Nico dissolved into tears again. Hazel rubbed his shoulder, gently. Nico looked at her, then relaxed into her arms, sobbing. 

“Nico, is there anything I can do?” Hazel asked, trying to make her voice as gentle as possible.

“Not unless you know a thing or two about necromancy,” Nico hiccuped.

“Oh…”

“Or how to make the gods stop torturing us…” 

“Nico, the gods aren't…”

“I mean, is there any purpose for the existence of the children of Hades and their families other than to be the target for Zeus’s anger? He killed her, Hazel, and he never paid and he will never pay!” Nico screamed. 

Hazel shrank away, teary eyed. She was terrified of her brother's rages. She watched through her own tears as he slumped over, crying. “Nico, please…” she pleaded quietly. “No one's out to hurt you. No one… no one's mad at you. Zeus has no reason to be out to get you. No one wants to see you suffer, Nico.”

“Yes, they do, Hazel! They… they wouldn't have killed her if they didn't want to see me suffer.”

“Nico…” Hazel dissolved into tears herself. Nico made no move to help her or comfort her, which was unusual for him. Then again, they'd never both been crying at the same time. “I can't fight with you, Nico. Please just tell me why you're so upset so we can end this.” 

Nico flopped down on his side. “No, Hazel, it's- it doesn't matter to you.” 

Hazel patted her brother's side and took a breath to compose herself. “Don't pretend I don't know that you weren't crying for your mother. Italian is close to Latin in enough respects that I understood what you were saying.” Hazel’s voice was a little steadier now. “And… you said that Zeus killed someone. Was… was that…?” 

Nico nodded into the pillow. Hazel squoze his shoulder. “I-I'm sorry, Nico. I-I didn't know.” She paused. “That… explains why you always made sure I had cover if we thought that there’d be a thunderstorm, though…” Nico looked up at her. She continued. “You were afraid I'd get killed like she got killed, right?” Nico did not respond. Hazel kept babbling. “It's okay. I'm not going to think you're weak for it. I mean, when we met my first impression was “scrawny white boy”, so I never was in any awe of you in the first place.”

"... Not helping, Hazel.”

“... Sorry. I love you, okay? You're my brother, and I don't want to see you upset.”

Nico just put his head back in the pillow, shoulders shaking. Hazel knew he was inconsolable just by looking at him. She started crying too, as well, just out of sheer pity. It hurt to see her brother cry. She hadn't even seen her brother cry after Tartarus. He was the strongest person she knew, so if he was crying, she knew it was bad. 

It went for another minute or two like this, but it felt like hours to Hazel. She’d never seen Nico beyond consolation like this. Normally he was fairly stone-faced, even while talking about the worst things that had ever happened to him. To see him emotional was a shock, to see him like this was even worse.  She held his hand. She didn't know exactly why she was doing it, but it felt right, so she kept holding it. Hopefully it would bring him some measure of comfort.

She heard a knock at the door. “I'll get it. Nico, stay put. It's okay, it's probably just Chiron wondering why we still have a light turned on,” she said, her voice quavering. She opened the door and saw a familiar face. 

“Will? Why are you up?”  _ It’s just Nico’s friend- er, boyfriend. He told you a week ago, remember? _

“Is… is everyone okay in here?” 

She turned to Nico, who raised his head and nodded slightly, a  _ go ahead and tell him the truth.  _ Hazel took a shaky breath, feeling tears come up again. “N-Nico’s crying and upset and I can't calm him down…” 

Will gave her a small hug and sighed. “Well, that's at least a problem I can solve. If you'll let me in…” 

She scooted out of his arms and out of the way, and Will entered the cabin. He sat next to Nico on his bed. Hazel, seeing that her brother was in safe hands, entered back into the curtained-off area of the cabin where she had her bed. She lay back down and waited.

Will picked Nico up and held him. Nico’s wet face buried into Will’s neck. “Shh, darlin’, it's okay. The bad guys can't get you now,” Will soothed. He sent pulses of light into Nico's body, to work some magic and take on half of his pain. He braced himself, knowing from past experience how bad the blow would be. 

It was even worse than usual. The pure grief and anger he usually felt from Nico was extreme, but somehow this was worse. He stilled the hand that had been mindlessly rubbing Nico's back and took a breath to avoid passing out or becoming sick, realizing then that he was shaking. All over, he was shaking. 

“Will…” Nico mumbled. “Will, you didn't have to do that.”

“Yes, I did. You were hurting. I had to make it better somehow.”

“Don't even pretend that that didn't hurt you, Solace. Besides, I would have been fine. I can deal…” His voice broke. “I can deal with this…” 

“You can't even deal with this at half strength! I had to do it because it is torture to make someone deal with that level of pain on their own. Why should you be any different?” Will squoze Nico a little tighter. “You don't have to be a superhero, Nico,” he whispered. “You can rely on others to help you sometimes. It doesn't make you a weak person. Okay?”

“... Okay, Will, I just don't want you to hurt yourself for me.” 

“Aw, so you do care.”

“Of course, Will. We are dating, after all.” Nico managed a weak chuckle. At this, Will kissed his cheek and put his head back on his shoulder, wrapping Nico up in his warm hug. Nico relaxed into it, feeling the pain ease up. Will had that effect on him. 

Nico tried to get himself as close to Will as possible, because even though he’d never admit it, Nico was always cold when he was tired. Will was the most constant source of heat that Nico had found thus far. The chills melted at Will's heat, like an ice cube in a blast furnace. Will's hand rubbed slow circles on Nico's back and Nico slipped his hands under Will's arm to warm them up. 

“Eep! Dude! Your hands are like ice cubes. How the hell…?”

“Shut up. Heaters don't talk.” 

“Wow, you're so nice,” Will giggled. He kissed Nico's cheek and Nico settled again. 

“Feels good…” Nico murmured.

“I'm glad, Nico,” Will soothed gently. “I… may we talk about what made you so sad now that you feel a little better?” 

Nico tensed again, and Will squoze him. It took a moment for Nico to find his voice. “I… well… Zeus took my mother away from me when I was little… and sometimes…”

Will kept prying gently. “Sometimes?”

"Sometimes… I still see her body…” Nico's voice cracked violently and Will knew that talky time was over. Will moved Nico’s head to his shoulder and Nico nuzzled into the crook of his neck, where he fit perfectly. Will could feel the watery tremors as Nico cried, and Nico’s tears felt like cool rain on Will's neck.

Hazel heard her brother begin sobbing again. She slipped out of her little cloth cubby and saw her brother crying in his boyfriend's arms. She slipped onto the bed and touched his arm. Will looked at her and smiled.  _ He's gonna be okay,  _ Will mouthed. Hazel smiled. She started a bit at the feeling of a suspicious press on her leg, but relaxed when she realized that it was just Nico's cat, Gremlin.

“Shh, little kitty,” Hazel murmured, picking up the cat. Gremlin nuzzled under Hazel's shoulder. “Nico will be just fine. Your baby will be just fine.” 

“Prrr…”  _ Thank you, pretty little human.  _ “Mrrr-mrup.” _ You know, I used to know a pretty little Devon Rex that looked just like you… _

Hazel kissed the cat’s head and put him next to Nico. The cat put his front paws on Nico's shoulder and gave his neck a soft headbutt. Will squeaked a bit at the feeling of a paw press on his leg, then scritched Gremlin behind the ears. Gremlin purred like a motorboat.

Nico seemed soothed by the presence of his cat. He took a shuddery breath. “Thank you so much, you three… I couldn't ask for better from a group of people and a cat. I don't deserve you. I don't deserve you. I know I don't. I love you. I love you. I can't say it enough. I can't…” Nico was crying. Hazel leaned in and kissed Nico's cheek, like he always did to her when she cried. His cheek tasted of salt, a bitter reminder of the events of the night. Nico and Will brought her into their hug. She was wrapped in Nico's arms, with Will supporting her back and her head on his chest. Hazel patted Nico's back until he relaxed. Gremlin squoze his furry body into their hug circle, and Nico removed an arm from around Hazel and pet Gremlin. Hazel did the same.

“Hey, uh…” Will started. 

“Yeah?” Hazel replied as Nico sniffled an acknowledgement. 

“Can I stay in the Hades cabin tonight?”

“I don't see why not. Just get out before Chiron catches you and you should be fine. But in the end, it's up to Nico. It's his cabin, after all.”

Nico nodded and buried his face in Will’s shirt. “I guess that's a yes to the question of staying,” Will chuckled. 

Hazel paused. “I know this is a change of subject, but I still don't know why Nico didn't come out to me sooner. I mean, I'm his  _ sister _ . I figured he was gay about a year before he actually told me.” 

“And at that time,” Will asked, “did you like the idea of him being gay?” 

“Uh. I… wasn't… you know. Well, for a person who originally lived in the 1940s I think I'm fairly open minded, but that just means that I'm still going to be there for him after he comes out, you know?” Hazel chuckled weakly at her own unfunny joke. “I mean, I never quite thought that a gay person could be made to be straight. That's been tried, and it's never actually succeeded. So…” Hazel shrugged. “I spent some time thinking on it before voicing my suspicions and doubts to Praetors Reyna and Frank, who told me that I was right, and that if Nico ever did come out to me that I was to be kind to him about it, and love him in spite of it despite any of my prior prejudices.” Hazel was finished with her spiel.

“I see,” Will replied. “Well, I'm glad you don't hate us.”

“Thanks. I'm glad you don't hate me too.”

The three of them sat there for another moment in comfortable silence. Nico wasn't crying anymore. He had passed out sometime in the middle of Hazel’s speech about his homosexuality, and was snoring softly with his head resting in Will's lap. Will was stroking his face and hair.

Finally, Will turned his eyes towards Hazel. “Shouldn't you be going to bed? I can tell that you're tired. Why don't you take Gremlin to bed and I'll handle Nico?”

“That sounds good…” Hazel replied.

“Alright. You go to bed.” Hazel did as she was told and carried Gremlin to bed with her. 

Across the room, Will gently picked up Nico’s head and put it on a pillow. He then lay down in the bed, gave Nico a kiss on the cheek, and cuddled up for the night.


	22. Solangelo- Will's Private Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico learns something terrible about Will's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will has no canon backstory, so a few years back I gave him a really edgy one. You can tell this is another older one, right?  
> Mentions of rape/child abuse. Also, slight victim blaming. Not really severe but if you're the easily upset type you might not want to read this one.

It was late December, and Nico was tired. It was freezing outside, and he had no interest in anything, much less any sort of Christmas party or other winter celebration. In addition to that, he had not seen Will Solace all day, and Will was the clingiest man you could ever hope to fall in love with. That in mind, not seeing him had made him nervous, so he decided to take a walk down to the infirmary and see if he was just working too hard to meet up with him.

Strolling across the snow covered fields leading to the Big House, he was slammed into by Cecil Markowitz, who was running in the opposite direction. “Hey, bro,” Cecil started. 

“Hey, Cece.”

Cecil panted. “Don’t call me Cece. Have you seen our bro Will? I’ve looked all over, can’t find the guy. In the infirmary, the cabins, I’ve looked everywhere, man. Can’t find him. Is he with you?”

“No. I was just going to the infirmary to see if he was there.”

“Welp. That’s bad. Will doesn’t just  _ skip camp  _ unless he’s really upset. You think he went into the forest to get some quiet time?”

“Maybe. Wanna come with me and look?” Nico asked.

“Oh, no way in hell am I going back in there, man! Last time I was in there I got kidnapped. Just mindin’ my own business, walking in the woods, thinking about Lou and Boom! I woke up tied to a cross. And I’m a Jew.”

“So was Jesus. A Jew, I mean. Never mind, I’ll go alone. You hang out and I’ll be back with your buddy.”

“Sounds sweet, bro.” Cecil gave a little salute and ran off towards the Hermes cabin. Nico huffed, rolled his eyes and made his way into the forest. He immediately saw sneaker prints in the snow. The snow had only fallen the previous night, and no one else had been in the forest for any camp activities since. It had to be Will. The monsters that lived in the woods were large and beastly. They did not wear size thirteen Nikes. They would have had to wear size eighteen at least.

Nico followed the footsteps. They led on a really crazy path, not through the normal path that campers used while going through the woods, not even through one of the sneak paths that campers used when trying to find a quiet spot to get it on. Half of the trip wasn’t even on a deer path. But he did faithfully follow the footsteps, at least until he tripped and tumbled into the ravine. “Oh, shit-!” Nico hit the ground and pain flared through his shoulder. He groaned.

Upon rolling to his knees and elbows, he realized where he was. This was Will’s memorial rock garden, his tribute to the fallen heroes of the Battle of Manhattan, the Battle of the Labyrinth, and the Battle with Gaea. It also held names of some miscellaneous dead, maybe parents or mortal friends of demigods, or nature spirits, or satyrs. There were also a couple of Huntresses in there as well, at Artemis’s insistence. Bianca had a rock. Nico had made it himself.

He looked around and saw a familiar face. “W-Will?”

Will buried his face in the bark of the tree he was next to. Nico had only gotten a brief glimpse of his face, but he looked pale. Ashen. Was that why he was hiding- he was sick and he didn’t want anyone to know? It could be true. He was the medic, after all. He was supposed to be the healthiest person in camp.

Nico got up, rubbing his bruised shoulder, and staggered over and sat next to Will. “Will, are you okay? Are you sick?”

Will heaved a breath, blowing it back out on his gloved hands. Yeah, he had definitely been sick. Nico could smell it. “I-I’m fine, Nico. I’m fine. I just need some time.”

“... Time?” Nico wasn’t sure what that meant. “Did I do something wrong?”

“N-no.” Will’s voice broke. “You’re not doing anything wrong. I just… I don’t feel good.” 

“That’s obvious. I can smell the vomit on your breath. Will, if you’re sick, you should come back to camp and be warm. It’s not good for you to be out in the elements when you’re sick. It makes you sicker.” Nico squoze Will’s shoulder.

Will whimpered. “I- I can’t.”

“Why can’t you? Is someone- is someone being bad to you?” Nico didn’t want anyone picking on Will, especially not while he was so sick.

“N-no-o. No one’s being bad to me. I just don’t want to-to see anyone.”

“Will, you know I understand how you feel, but I’m worried about you. I can’t take you to the Underworld for shelter like I would do with myself if I were in your place. And I don’t want you sitting outside in a 14 degree New York winter when you’ve been throwing up. And I’m not sure where else I could take you but back to camp. Do you understand?”

Will nodded. He closed his eyes as Nico rubbed his shoulder gently, and his mind began to drift slowly. The memory settled on him again, like a blast of ice water. Being thrown to the ground in conditions just like this. His limbs tied, blindfolded, gagged. Pressure put on his neck, he was going to pass out. He was pinned, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He hiccuped, choked and threw up again, spilling his pained guts at the roots of the tree. 

“Okay, that’s it. I’m taking you back to camp. Where would you like me to take you?” Nico asked, grabbing Will around the waist.

“Somewhere warm,” Will gasped. “And… private.”

“Hades cabin it is, then.” He squoze Will as they slipped into shadows. 

They reappeared several feet above the floor and crashed together in a tangle. Will groaned. Nico stood him up and sat him in his bed. Will pulled off his shoes and wrapped himself in the blanket, shivering. “I-it’s t-too cold.”

“In here?” Nico asked.

“N-no. I-in general.”

“Look, I don’t like it either. It’d be great if it could be 65-75 degrees and sunny year round. But it isn’t, so tuck yourself in. You’re ill.”

Will nodded and curled up in the fetal position. Nico sat down next to him and put his hand on Will’s forehead and neck. “You’re not feverish. Did you eat something funny that messed up your stomach or something?”

“No,” Will responded. He gave a cry of pain, cringing and wincing and curling into himself. “Nico, I-I’m gonna hurl again!”

“Oh. Oh, geez. Go quick!” Nico held Will’s hair back as he retched into the toilet. Afterwards, he just looked deflated, like a popped balloon animal. “Are… are you feeling any better now?”

Will shook his head. “Hurts.”

“I’m sorry.” Nico rubbed his lower back. “Is it just in your stomach, or is it somewhere else as well?”

“M-my head. And hands.”

“Hands?” Nico asked.

“They always hurt when it’s cold. I-I got frostbitten in them when they were little and they’ve hurt when it’s cold ever since.”

“... I’m sorry.” 

Will turned and put his head on Nico’s shoulder and Nico held him. “I-I…” Will looked up at Nico, tears filling his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I-I just…”

“You’re sick, that’s all.” Nico cut him off before he could send himself further into a downward spiral. “We’re all worried about you, Will.”

“You and…”

“Me and Cecil, for one. Cecil was the one who sent me to find you in the woods.”

“Cecil… he’s a good friend. Everyone should have a friend like Cecil.”

“Mhm,” Nico agreed. “I promised that I’d bring you to him, so, should I bring him here? I don’t want you going outside in the cold.”

“O-okay,” Will whispered quietly. Nico helped him into the bed and kissed his cheek, then left for the Hermes cabin.

Cecil was in the Hermes cabin, lounging on a sleeping bag and trying to throw M&Ms into the mouths of his sisters Julia and Alice when Nico suddenly appeared in their cabin. “Holy son of a- Nico! Hey, bro, did you find him?”

“Yup. But just a word of warning, he’s not doing very well,” Nico responded.

“Not doing so hot, huh?” 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Cecil groaned. “The last thing he would want anyone to see is him being sick.”

“Understandable.”

“Okay. Yeah, Julia, Alice, I’m going to the Apollo cabin a few doors over. Will needs me. Okay?”

“Okay,” the two girls responded, evil grins on both of their faces.

“Girls, no. Be nice. I’m helping a friend.”

“Fiiine,” they moped. “We’ll be good.”

The pair left the cabin… and turned in opposite directions. “Hey, bro, where are you going? The Apollo cabin is this way, to the right.”

“The Apollo cabi- oh, sorry. He’s at my place,” Nico clarified.

“That bad, huh?” Cecil winced.

“Yeah. He’s really bad off.”

“Poor guy.” Cecil watched Nico unlock the door. He entered the cabin almost tentatively. It was an unspoken Hermes-kid rule that you did not break and enter any of the Big Three cabins. It was assumed to be a mistake that would end in a horrible, horrible death, a plague, the Earth swallowing you alive, knife wielding monkeys from heaven, et cetera. And those were only  _ some  _ of the possible outcomes. So yes, he was a little nervous entering the Lord of the Underworld’s cabin. 

Cecil looked around. The cabin was about how he’d remembered it being the one other time he’d been inside, but all of the junk from the renovation that had been going on then had long been cleared away. Cecil immediately noticed the blond head poking out from under the covers of Nico’s bed and walked to the bedside. His footsteps resonated a little more than they should have on the black marble floor, making an eerie clicking sound as he moved. 

“Hey… bro,” Will mumbled weakly as Cecil approached. He turned and faked a smile.

“Don’t give me that. I know you feel like shit. Nico told me so. Now come and tell me why you tried to run away instead of seeking help.”

Will curled up on himself, bringing his knees to his chest. He looked immensely vulnerable and pained.  _ Oh, shit, _ Cecil thought.  _ I’ve seen this look before. He’s not physically ill. Nico thought he was because Will would rather die than… than… _

“Nico, can Will and I talk alone?” Cecil asked.

“Well… I mean… okay. I’ll wait outside.”

“Thank you so much, bro. This won’t be long, I promise. He just… really needs this.” 

“You’re welcome. Just… be careful with him. He’s really not feeling well.”

“Understood. I’ll be good.” Cecil flashed a smile. Now Nico understood where the power lay in a Hermes kid. They were  _ insanely  _ charismatic. He left the cabin and sat on the doorstep, awaiting the signal to reenter.

Cecil sat down next to his friend. “Hey, buddy, it’s okay. You can tell me what’s bothering you, man. I know everything about you. I’m your best friend. And I think I can help you if you tell me what’s going on.”

“You… you know what’s going on,” Will gasped. He couldn’t look Cecil in the eye. 

“What’s going on?” Cecil asked. “Is it something I should know about?”

“You… you know. It’s December eighteenth. You remember what happened.”

“No, I really don- Oh. Oh, gods. We aren’t talking… aren’t talking about  _ that,  _ are we?”

“Y-yeah,” Will whispered, his voice cracking. 

Cecil huffed. “You do realize that what he did to you was horrible, right?”

“I know,” Will responded.

“You know I never did approve of you making amends with him, right?”

“Yeah. Lee didn’t like that idea either. In some ways…” Will’s voice cracked again. “In some ways, you two are a lot alike.”

“Look, Will, we both care about you, and neither one of us liked the fact that you got molested by some lunatic.”

“That lunatic raised you and put a roof over your head!”

“That lunatic is dead to me. He was Lou’s father, not mine. There was never any love between us, and there never will be. When he died, my only wish was that I had been the one to pull the trigger. And I did have a mother. She may have been on the wrong side of the law but she was wonderful. She was the one that raised me,” Cecil said, his voice tapering into a whisper. “Not him.”

“Where was she when I was around?” Will argued.

“Elysium.”

That drove whatever itty bit of conversation there was straight into the toilet. The two boys sat in silence for several minutes, Cecil stewing, Will crying quietly. 

Eventually, though, Cecil spoke. “I’m sorry. You were- I understand why you did what you did. You were so young when it happened, you couldn’t be expected to deal with it. I bet… I bet you felt like your whole world would collapse if you tried to get away from him. I bet you felt like you’d lose everything including us. And that’s not right.”

“Cecil, I…” Will paused and then continued in a plaintive voice, “I loved him. I really did. It was… the love was just so, so warped it was unrecognizable. But I know I loved him. That’s why I never left. Now, I was afraid. I was afraid of losing Lou. Because… I still think that part of her believes that Louis Blackstone was a good man. And… I think she needs to believe that after everything that happened in the Battle of Manhattan regarding her godly side. I think she needs to think that there’s some part of her family that’s acceptable and okay. I can’t take that from her.”

Cecil nodded. “Yeah.” He paused. “Are… are you going to tell Nico?”

“M-maybe. I don’t know.” 

“... I’d understand it if you didn’t. Nico may not want to know. I mean, you may not want Nico to know.”

“Y-yeah. Him being so sexually conservative, he may not… it may… I’m not sure I want him to know is all. Or… not even that. I’m afraid he’d judge me or think I brought it upon myself.”

“Okay,” Cecil whispered. “Are… are we done talking?”

“Y-yeah. Poor Nico, out there waiting in the cold…” Will sniffled.

“Yeah. I’ll bring him in.”

Outside, Nico was resting on the step. He was worried for his love, and the below freezing temperatures weren’t helping. He worried that the Hades cabin wasn’t warm enough for a sick person. It was warmer than normal, sure, but that only meant it was about 68-70 degrees Fahrenheit. It wasn’t like the warmth of the infirmary. However, Will had said he wanted to be somewhere private. And the only privacy he had immediate access to was his cabin. So he figured that he’d keep Will in his cabin and just smother him in blankets so he wouldn’t be freezing. There was also Chiron to worry about, but as long as Cecil hung around as well he shouldn’t be a problem.

Cecil came out of the cabin and sat next to Nico. “We’re done. Will’s… he’s been through some tough shit.”

“What does that have to do with him being ill?” Nico asked.

“He’s… he’s sick off of his own mind, that’s what.”

Nico had a sudden memory of his first night in the infirmary. Will had had to hold his hair back while he had retched and retched from nightmares. “Yeah, I think I understand.”  
“Good. Now… he wants you back in the cabin with him.”

“Okay,” Nico responded. He came back into the cabin and sat on the bed where Will was sitting there, shivering. He knelt on the bed and gently pulled Will into his arms again. Will’s shivering body relaxed a tiny bit. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

“N-no…”

“Why not?” Nico asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I-I’m s-sorry-y...” he squeaked. A hiccuping sob escaped his throat. 

“Oh…” Nico didn’t know what to do. He wanted nothing more than to protect Will. He had to keep the pain away. He had to. 

He kissed Will’s cheek. “Hold on. Just hold on. It’s gonna be okay.”

“I-I can’t. I can’t.”

Nico didn’t know what to do. He assumed that this was one of the meltdowns Will had occasionally mentioned having. If so, this was the worst he’d ever seen. He’d seen Will cry before- for his failures, for his siblings, for his friends. But he’d never seen Will become a basket case. It had never been like this. It was always a little shocking to see Will cry even the littlest bit, just because he was such a strong, warm, cheery guy normally. It didn’t seem even remotely natural to see him like this. 

After a few minutes, Will relaxed a little. Nico remembered Will telling him that if given prolonged physical contact, a person in even the wildest state of hysteria would relax and calm down. Nico supposed this was true because Will was obviously loosening up. He slumped a little into Nico and Nico buried his face in his soft blond hair, trying to derive some iota of comfort from the person that so badly needed comfort himself. “It’s already getting better, see? It’s all gonna be okay.”

“Y-yeah,” Will gasped. “I just… I’m sorry. I don’t think this will ever really go away. I-I made a mistake and… it fucked me up.”

“What mistake did you make?” Nico asked softly, rubbing Will’s back. Cecil scowled and pulled away slightly.

Will sniffled. In that moment, he looked very small and frail. He didn’t look like his six-foot tall sunny self at all. “I-I… I was in… you aren’t my first lover.”

“I didn’t think I was. You were far too confident for me to be your first.”

“Either way… my first lover… it wasn’t a good relationship, I’ll admit. I was far too young, only twelve when it started. He was… he was no saint himself, looking back on it..”

“Did he… did he hit you, or…?”

“No. Well… maybe once or twice when he was really drunk or something but it wasn’t a normal thing.”

“Drunk? How old was he?” Now Nico was getting worried. Maybe Cecil had been right when he said Will had terrible judgement when it came to romance.

“There was a… really big age difference.”

“How old was he when you were twelve?” Nico interrogated.

“Twenty… nine? I think he was 29.”

“Oh my gods, Will. That’s… that’s bordering on the edge of child molestation. That  _ is _ child molestation. Was it at least consensual? Did you enjoy it?”

Will cringed and grunted a little. Nico sighed and tightened his hold on the boy so he wouldn’t squirm away accidentally. “I’m taking that as a no. Will, why didn’t you leave him?  _ Could _ you even leave him?”

“I guess I could have, but… I had too many friends where he lived, he was giving me a place to stay and I…”

“You stayed because you had nowhere else to go,” Nico interrupted.

“That’s not true,” Cecil cut in. “He could have left for camp any damn time he felt like it. I made sure of it. And his brother Lee Fletcher offered to let him stay at his place in Maryland as well.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Nico asked. “Will, please tell me everything.”

“O-okay. He… he… I loved him. I really did. Also, if I left for camp… I would have had to make up a story to tell Lou. Lou, Cecil and I were all living together and it would have seemed weird if one of us had just up and took off like that. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, but… you could have just told her ‘Hey, this guy is hurting me, I need to leave for a little while,’” Nico responded. “Or were you afraid that she wouldn’t believe you?”

“N-no. Lou’s a sweet girl. That was never… that was never my concern,” Will sniffled.

“Then what is? Will, I feel like there’s something you aren’t telling me. What is it?”

Will paused. It was a long pause, and Nico worried that he might be killing the poor guy just by trying to extricate the painful information. “Nico… do you think it’s still rape if it’s a guy on another guy, or a girl on a guy?”

“Absolutely. If there’s nonconsensual penetration, it’s rape. Why?” Nico thought for a moment. “He… he raped you, didn’t he.”

Will nodded slightly, his face a mask of fear and shame. He looked down as Nico tightened his grip. Cecil scowled harder. “Yes. He did. And I saw it happen so you can be 100% sure I’m not bullshitting you.”

Nico closed his eyes. He didn’t know what to say. How did you respond to something like that? Do you apologise? You don’t change the subject, that he knew, but how did you continue the conversation from there? He believed Will and Cecil. He was 100% sure of that. But he didn’t know how to continue. “I-I’m so sorry, Will. I don’t know what to say. I…” Nico squoze him. 

“Then… then don’t say anything.” Will’s voice was muffled by Nico’s arm, which his face was buried in. Will took a hiccuping breath. “I’m just glad you aren’t mad.”  
“Mad?” Nico asked. “Why would I be mad at you for something that was never your fault?”

“Some… some people would be mad because…”

“... because it was another guy. And they would think that you should have fought back or defended yourself.”

“Yeah,” Will nodded. “Yeah.”

Nico tore his eyes away from his boyfriend and looked into space. There were a few minutes of silence, punctuated occasionally by Will’s sniffles and heavy breaths. Nico felt sick. His heart was breaking for Will. He couldn’t even imagine what that was like. “Will?” he asked softly. “Why did you… why did you stay with him?”

“I loved him…” Will whispered. “And… he needed me. He was… he was hurting. Like you were, Nico. He needed me.”

“Bullshit!” Cecil’s shout broke the quiet. “You’re better than he was. Besides, if he “needed” you so badly, then why did he sleep with other people when you were together?”

“I… well, I’m not going to use Cecil’s words, but that sounds like he may be right,” Nico said. “I mean, he was so much older,  _ and  _ he assaulted you,  _ and  _ he was unfaithful,  _ and _ he made it so you couldn’t leave…”

“I could have left any time I wanted. We had an agreement. It included all of that. I was too young to be a stable butt buddy, so he hired a few ladies and gentlemen to help him out with that. That was all that was. Also, he never said ‘You can’t leave’. He let me go to camp every break from school that we got. He let me go to Maryland for three days to alert Lee Fletcher’s mother of his death. Practically the only thing he didn’t want me to do was sleep around, which I wasn’t gonna do anyway.”

“Because you were twelve.”

“Yeah. The-the only time that that was hard was… oh, geez, it was when I met Beckendorf. He was… he was like Percy was to you, Nico.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Cecil made the time-out sign. “I thought you were hot for Jake Mason.”

“I had…” Will giggled ruefully. “I had crushes on both of them. When it became obvious that Silena and Beckendorf were crushing on each other, I focused more on Jake. I-I guess I thought that if I couldn’t have one brother, maybe the other would be fairer game. Nothing ever panned out. They were both straighter than steel bars, so...” Will trailed off. 

“I’m kind of glad about that, I have to admit,” Nico replied. 

“That’s understandable,” Will said.

“I-I’m morbidly curious. Do you have any other exes?” Nico asked.

“Just one. I had a relationship with Mitchell, from Aphrodite, for about two weeks following Louis’s death-”

“Wait. Who’s Louis?” Nico asked.

“My… the ex you’ve been maligning for this past period of time,” Will replied. 

“Oh. The child rapis- I mean your ex. Okay.” 

“Whatever,” Will mumbled. “Anyway, he and I dated for two weeks. If you hear any comments about something- about doing it in the med closet, that’s what that’s from.”

“The med closet? Will, that’s where we first kissed,” Nico said shockedly.

“Why did you think I knew that that was a good place to do that?” Will asked. He seemed a little more comfortable now, and they were glad he was relaxing. “Did that with Mitch before I did that with you.”

“Oh, did you?” Nico asked, tickling the older boy under his arms.

“Stop it!” he laughed. “And yeah, I admit it. The rumor of us banging in the closet was true.”

“You and Mitchell?” Cecil asked, a crooked grin stretching across his face. 

“Yup,” Will sighed.

Cecil laughed. “Wait ‘till the others hear about this! It was  _ the _ rumor for what, two months? Wait ‘till everyone hears that it’s true!” Then he turned to Nico. “Just so you know, there was a rumor about Will and Mitchell doing it that went around about two years ago. It was… it was absolutely, gloriously bizarre and sensational and… well… it probably got blown way, way out of proportion for what it was, but it provided me and many others with several months of free entertainment, so it was worth it in the long run, I think.”

“Yeah, at my expense!” Will responded. “How is that fair?”

“It’s not, but it was and still is funny as shit, so fairness can go suck on my…”

“Cecil!” Nico scolded. “Just… no.”

“You’re no fun,” Cecil pouted. He sighed and reached over to scritch Nico’s cat behind the ears. Gremlin had just woken up after Cecil had rolled over a little on Nico’s leather jacket, which the cat was curled up under.

Nico sighed and didn’t respond. He brushed hair off of Will’s cheek. He was pleased to find it wasn’t as wet as it had been. “You feeling a little better?”

Will sighed and rested his head in Nico’s lap. “A little bit. I don’t feel so sick anymore.”

Nico nodded sympathetically. “I think you should go take a shower and brush your teeth. I think cleaning up would make you feel better.”

Will nuzzled into Nico’s thigh. “Just… can I stay here one more moment?”

Nico stroked his cheek. “... Sure.”

Will leaned into Nico’s cool hand. “Thank you so much.”

The three boys descended into comfortable silence. Will let his eyes fall closed. He focused on Nico’s hand, his fingers gracing gently over his cheek and through his hair. Nico’s thumb brushed over his lip and he put a kiss on it, tiny and discreet. 

Finally, Nico broke the silence. “Look, I love you, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you like he did. I swear on the Styx.”

Will’s eyes teared up again. He blinked them back. “... Thank you, Nico. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Nico felt his heart warm. “You’re welcome.”

Will lay there for another moment, Nico stroking his cheek, before sitting up. “... I’m gonna go clean up. I don’t want you to have to smell my vomit breath anymore.”

“It’s no problem,” Nico responded as Will left the cabin. When he was gone, he turned to Cecil and said “He really  _ did _ have vomit breath something terrible.”

Cecil nodded and stuck out his tongue in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically I headcannoned that Will lived with Lou and Cecil for a while (I used to think it was about 7 years, now I'm not so sure) following some extenuating family circumstances. Lou's father (Louis) took him in, which seemed like a good thing until he turned out to be a pedophile. Anyway, that's the short version. Sorry for angst/cringe/edge.  
> Also, this sort of ties into a couple drabbles ago when Will tells Clarisse he's a year rounder now in regards to that was when he finally got free of Louis (a.k.a Louis died).


	23. Percabeth- He Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will uses his pain-carrying powers on Percy. Mentions of child/spousal abuse, but nothing outside the range of what's in the canon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna warn you, there's mentions of Sally Jackson getting beat up in this. Don't shit your knickers.

Will was alone in the apartment studying when he heard someone pounding on the door. He started and rose off the couch, closing his textbook and putting it neatly on the kitchen table before grabbing a frying pan and opening the door. 

It was Annabeth.

“... Will,” she started. She was wearing a sweater that came down almost to her knees. It made her look somewhat small and frail.   
“You okay?” Will asked. 

“... Uh. I have a… small situation.”

“Let me guess. You either have the stomach flu or…” Will scanned her. “You’re pregnant.”

Annabeth laughed. “No, I’m not pregnant or sick. I was just thinking that… certain people have been talking about… about you having a certain… a certain ability.”

Will cocked his head. “What ability?”

“Like… a pain-carrying type of ability? That ring any bells?”

“Oh. Uh… that. Yeah. What about it?”

“Would you mind doing it on Percy?” Annabeth blurted. “I mean… just because… because he… he…”

“Is he in pain?”

“... Not physical pain,” Annabeth whispered. “And I know it sounds stupid to use godpowers on something that’s only in your head, but… he’s… he’s _so_ depressed, I can see it in his eyes. And I can tell he’s tired, he’s so tired but he can’t sleep and… it hurts to see is all.”

Will nodded sympathetically. “No, no, I understand. I’ll do it, but only if Percy is okay with it.”

Annabeth nodded. She beckoned Will over to their apartment next door. Will entered to see Percy lying listlessly on the sofa. “Percy?”

Percy didn’t look at him. “Will.”

“Did you… um.” Will cleared his throat. “... Talk to Annabeth about my pain-carrying powers?”

“... Yeah.”

“... Are you sure you want this? Like… you know that I _will_ read your mind if I do it, right?”

Percy looked up at him. “... Yeah, I know. Just… don’t make a big shit of what you see in there, okay?”

“I won’t,” Will responded. He held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

Percy scanned him. He honestly looked like he didn’t trust him at all. “... Okay. I’m desperate. Go ahead.”

“Okay,” Will responded. “I’m gonna need you to give me a hug.”

Percy looked a little baffled, but he sat up and put his arms out. Will ducked in and pulled Percy into a hug, preparing to take Percy’s pain away. _Whatever I see in there, it can’t be worse than other things I’ve seen. I withstood Nico’s pain, I can withstand this._

Will went in and all of a sudden he was breathless. Images flashed before his eyes, a brunette woman on the ground with a bloodied nose in front of him, defending him from a shadowy figure with a broken beer bottle. A girl with inky black hair that looked like a female Nico di Angelo. Beckendorf in chains, being held down by monsters. The same brunette lady again, this time with a black eye, her eyes pouring tears. Silena with her face so burned she was almost unrecognizable. Annabeth in the reddish light of Tartarus, gaunt-faced and abused. A thousand blurry images of various people serving expulsion documents, a thousand screamed insults. Jason, grinning like a puppy behind his glasses. And a million other things he couldn’t even begin to process.

It hurt like a direct shotgun blast to the gut.

When Will recovered, Percy and he were slumped into each other. Percy was breathing heavily. They separated slightly and Percy looked at Will with a hazy expression. His eyes were wet with tears of assumed relief. “... Will it stay if I pull away?”

Will nodded. He was too upset to say anything.

Percy pulled away. Annabeth pulled him into her arms from where she was sitting behind them. He curled up with his head in her lap, awkwardly scrunched as to not put his feet on Will. “... Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you so much, man. I owe you one.”

Will nodded. “... It’s cool.” His voice cracked. 

Percy glanced up. “... Are you crying?”

Will wiped forming tears out of his eyes. “I’m okay.”

Annabeth looked at him, her stormy gray eyes full of concern. “Was it too much for you?”

“Sorry, I… I cry too easily, really,” Will responded. He wiped his eyes again and put a smile on his face. “I’m all right.” _Don’t make a big shit out of this._

“... Good,” Annabeth replied, running a thumb over Percy’s cheek. Percy shut his eyes, his mouth opened slightly. Will watched them. Annabeth ran her hand over Percy’s cheek, over his hair, his shoulder. Percy buried his face in Annabeth’s thigh like it was a pillow, relaxing into her. They looked tender together.

It made Will’s heart ache.

Will couldn’t even make sense of some of the things he’d seen in Percy’s head. Who was the brunette lady? Who was the shadowy figure? He guessed the girl that looked like Nico had been Bianca, but why would Percy grieve for her? Because she was a cousin, he supposed. But he hadn’t recalled them being all that close. 

He supposed he’d have to talk to Percy another time. He didn’t want to hurt Percy in this moment of gentle relief. 

Annabeth looked at him. “... I think Percy’s asleep.”

Will looked at him. Between his shaggy hair and Annabeth’s voluptuous thigh Will could only barely see one of his eyes. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open slightly. His lips were twitching faintly. 

“Does he talk in his sleep?” Will asked. 

“Yeah. He drools, too. He’s lucky I love him because he’s obnoxious as all-get-out to sleep next to.” Annabeth sighed and stood up, placing his head on a pillow. She moved to his side of the couch, studying his face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Will shook his head. “... I’m just having a little trouble processing what I got from Percy.”

Annabeth put a gentle hand on his arm. “Is it because of Tartarus?”

“... Only partially. I mean, I do this for Nico all the time, so the Tartarus scenes aren’t exactly new. I just…” Will shook his head. He couldn’t get his mind off the sobbing lady with the curly brown hair and the bruises. Something about her drew his mind’s eye in a way that none of the other things he’d seen had. “... Is Percy close to any women with curly brown hair?”

Annabeth looked at him quizzically. “Only his mother. I mean, he does date exclusively curly-haired girls, but as far as I know there was never a brunette save for… It didn’t look like Calypso, did it?”

“... No. The hair was too dark and too curly.”

“Yeah. That’s his mom, then. Why?”

“I… I saw her, like… in his head, I saw…” Will couldn’t form words.

“You saw?”

“She was, like… on the ground all bloody.”

Annabeth winced. “Gods. That… I hope to fuck that was just a terrible dream he had and not some… reality. I’ve met his mother and she’s too sweet for all of that shit.”

Will nodded. “... I want to ask him, but I also don’t want to hurt him, you know?”

“No, I know. I understand. We’ll ask him when he wakes up.”

Percy woke up a few hours later. He almost seemed surprised to see Will still in their apartment. “Oh… hey.”

“Hey. Uh… Percy, can we talk for a moment?”

Percy yawned. “Sure. You want to do it in our room?”

Will nodded. “Sure.” 

The two boys trailed into Percy and Annabeth’s bedroom. Half of the room was taken over by some enormous _thing_ made out of Legos, so they had to sit on the bed. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I… just something I saw in your head. I saw a bunch of… of… images of this… this same woman, not Annabeth, different lady, a brunette, but I saw a bunch of images of her, like… all bruised up and bloodied and that. And I… I guess I was concerned.”

Percy flinched. He stared at the comforter he was sitting on with an almost hateful expression. “... My mother. She’s okay now.”

“... Glad to hear it. No… no lasting psychological damage?” Will still didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he was glad that everyone was okay.

“Some. Not much. She… she’s living a normal life now, which is… is good.”

“Yeah. It is,” Will responded. 

Percy sighed and sniffled. “Yeah. She… she’s remarried now. Has another kid. Her life is kind of coming together, so… that’s better.” 

Will patted his back, nodding sympathetically. “Bad relationship?”

“... Yeah,” Percy whispered. 

“It happens,” Will murmured. “It’s sad but it happens.”

 _For me. She did it all for me._ Percy’s heart felt cold, but he didn’t want to say anything more to Will. They weren’t that close, Will was a good guy but they weren’t tight enough for Percy to want to spill his guts anymore. “... Yeah.”

“... I’m glad she’s okay,” Will said. “And… I’m sorry. That you had to witness it and that she had to experience it.”

Percy nodded and threw up his hands. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Will nodded. “... You want to order a pizza or something?”

Percy turned to Will. For a second Will thought he’d fucked something up, but then a huge grin broke across Percy’s face. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

Will chuckled. “Okay. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I found a fic where Kronos bum rapes Luke as an initiation ritual and I'm still trying to process it


	24. Non-shippy- Tear My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor acts sometimes like he wishes his brother were dead. In the darkness of his nightmares we learn that that isn't true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor gore.

_“Don’t you dare,” Travis growled, standing between Connor and the drakon. He was shaking. The drakon lunged at him, missing him by an inch. Travis struck, stabbing into the drakon’s eye. The drakon reeled, howling before whipping around and spitting searing poison at Travis. His shield melted out of his hand and he threw it to the ground to keep his hand from meeting a similar fate. He lunged again but the drakon was faster, grabbing him and tearing through his armor like paper, his skin burning away under the drakon’s acidic saliva. He howled in agony._

_Connor struck at the other eye. The drakon howled and dropped Travis. Connor ran for him as backup finally arrived. He was lying on the ground, breath heaving, weak cries of agony coming from his lips. “Travis!”_

_Travis didn’t respond. Connor removed his helmet. Travis’s face was twisted in pain. Silent tears streamed from his eyes. “Travis,” Connor insisted. “Look at me, man. It’s gonna be okay.”_

_Travis made eye contact. “Con-con,” he wheezed. “Con-con.”_

_“You’ll make it,” Connor said, more for his own sake than for Travis’s. Travis’s whole abdomen was torn open and burned; he could see the bright red blood pooling in the cavity amongst the pink viscera. It made Connor’s heart ache._

_“No,” Travis gasped. He closed his eyes and hissed. “I… it hurts.”_

_“I know.” Connor leaned his head against Travis’s. “Just hang on. Backup’s here. Will’s on his way. It’ll be okay.”_

_Travis didn’t respond. “... I love you.”_

_“I love you too. Please hang on.” Connor closed his eyes. He felt Travis heave a few more breaths, shaky over his forehead before suddenly vanishing. Connor looked up. Travis’s eyes were half-lidded, his jaw was slack. One tear still hung in the corner of his eye. Connor could see he was beyond pain, now._

_“Travis?” he whispered, shocked, pained._

_No answer._

_Connor howled. He put his head down. He didn’t care if the drakon killed him. It didn’t matter. If Travis wasn’t around, what did? “Travis, come back! We can heal you, I promise! I… I can’t, please, come back, I love you, please, just come ba-” He gasped. “-come back!”_

_“Connor!” Travis? Really?_

_He shot up. Travis hadn’t stirred. He groaned. “Please, I… please, stop taunting me, come back,_ wake up, _I…”_

_“Connor, wake up!”_

  
  
  


Connor jerked awake, shaking, sobbing. In the space before his conscious brain woke up he screamed once more for Travis. 

“Connor, it’s me! I’m here! It’s okay!” 

Connor’s eyes shot open. Travis sat over him, real, _alive._ He couldn’t even say anything. He shot up, grabbing Travis in a tight hug. 

Travis returned it. “Hey, man, it’s okay. Just a nightmare, man, just a nightmare. I’m here. It’s all okay. Don’t cry, Con-con.” He pushed Connor away just enough to brush tears off of his cheek with a tender hand. “Don’t cry.”

Connor leaned into Travis’s hand. “... I…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Travis kissed his forehead before pulling him close again, letting his tears soak into his tee shirt. “It’s okay.”

“Travis,” he sobbed. “Travis, I…”

“Mhm?”

“I… I… I… love you, okay?”

Travis rocked him back and forth gently. “I love you too. I think that’s the first time you’ve told me that in years.”

“Sh-sh-sh-shut up,” Connor gasped. He closed his eyes, taking in the heat of Travis’s body on his skin. Enjoying how alive it made him seem. He took in the steady rise and fall of Travis’s chest against his own, letting it soothe his gasps. Travis was alive. He was breathing. He was okay. It was okay. He looked up into Travis’s eyes, seeing the light dancing in them, seeing the mischief lit in the corners. So much like his own, but so different. So much more tender. The love in his eyes was almost overwhelming. 

It made Connor’s heart break. 

A few more tears ran down his cheeks. Travis brushed them away. “Must have been a really bad dream.”

Connor nodded.

“I’m assuming I died?”

Connor winced and nodded again, a few more tears dribbling out. 

“... Yeah.” Travis held him tight. “I’m okay. I promise.”

“I mean… you’re my brother, man, I…” Connor’s voice broke. “... I love you so much, and I know I don’t ever say it, but I do, I love you so much…”

Travis kissed the top of his curly head. “I love you too. It’s okay. I’m here. We’re safe.” He rubbed his back between his shoulder blades. “Don’t cry.”

Connor took a deep breath and composed himself somewhat. “... You were torn to bits. In front of me. You were torn to bits and your whole stomach was hanging open and you weren’t breathing and… oh, gods…” He took another deep shaky breath. 

Travis tried to think about what it would be like to see Connor in that situation. It made his ribs hurt. “... I’m so sorry. That sounds awful.”

Connor nodded. 

“It wasn’t real,” Travis whispered. “It’s not real. I’m here. Not torn open. See?” He pulled away and pulled up his shirt enough to show his intact belly. 

Connor kept his eyes closed, almost like he was afraid it wouldn’t be real, as if he would open his eyes and see pink bloody entrails streaming out and onto the bed. He opened one eye a crack and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Travis’s stomach, the little freckles that spotted the intact skin. “... I see.” He leaned back into Travis’s shoulder, exhausted from panic and tears. “I see.”

Travis nodded. He kissed the top of Connor’s head. “Are you okay if I go get you some water? I think it would help.”

Connor sniffled and nodded. Travis pulled away and crossed their cruddy apartment to fill a cup with water. Connor lay down, not daring to close his eyes. He didn’t want to see Travis’s body torn again. It was too horrible. 

Travis returned with the water and Connor downed it, feeling it churn in his stomach. Travis brushed Connor’s hair out of his eyes, his fingers soft on his forehead. “Do you want me to sleep in your bed with you tonight?”

Connor blushed. He thought of Katie, Travis’s girlfriend, asleep peacefully in the other room. He wondered if she’d be afraid or sad if she woke up alone. Then he wondered if he would ever be able to get to sleep if _he_ was alone. He looked down bashfully. “... Please do, I… I don’t want to have any more nightmares.”

“Of course,” Travis murmured, lying down and wrapping an arm around Connor. He kissed the back of Connor’s neck. “Anything for you, man.”

Connor sighed, melting into Travis’s embrace. He finally felt secure enough to close his eyes. “... Thank you so much. I love you.”

Travis, already coasting along the floaty edge of sleep, murmured “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be in absentia a little more often in the next few weeks. I'm the DM for my D&D group's new campaign that's starting up and I'm still trying to figure all of that out. Also, school still has my ass but I'm graduating in May, so who gives a shit?  
> Also, I see that some of you are really getting into the fics I write with Clarisse in them. I have another drabble started about her and Chris but I don't know quite when that'll be out. Because in all honesty, writing these is one of those things where you have to be in a certain state of mind, and if I try to write when I'm not in that state of mind it just winds up sucking. And no one wants that.  
> Anyway, sorry for the rambling. Hope you enjoyed.


	25. Percabeth- Antidote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Greeks really need to remember to disarm their poisoned traps.

“Percy?” Annabeth called, her voice echoing through the green of the forest. He’d gone out for a walk that morning and hadn’t yet returned, and it was driving Annabeth into fits. She’d eventually gone looking for him herself, scouring through the strawberry fields to the forest. She was probably a mile in, a long ways away from Zeus’s Fist, from the creek, from any commonly seen landmark. It was only her concern for Percy that kept her from worrying that she was totally lost. “Percy? Can you hear me? Are you here?”

There was no answer. She crept a little further, poking through the underbrush. “Seaweed Brain?”

She heard a small groan. Her heart leapt. She pushed some leaves out of the way to reveal a mop of shaggy black hair. She rolled through the underbrush, the leaves pressing her close to Percy. She saw him in full for the first time, the twigs digging into her. Percy’s face was pale and his eyes were unfocused. His breathing was heavy. Annabeth trailed her eyes down. 

Blood was pooling on his stomach and running into the dirt.

“Percy!” she yelped, pulling out a cloth from her first-aid kit and pressing it over his belly. “What got you?”

Percy shook his head. “... I don’t…I don’t…”

Annabeth slicked the hair off of his sweaty forehead. “Okay. It’s gonna be okay. Here, let’s see that wound.” She gently pulled his shirt up. The blood had adhered it to his stomach. The wound was ragged and tinged almost green at the edges. “... That looks deep,” she murmured. “Do you think it was poisoned?”

Percy sighed, letting his mouth hang open. “... Maybe.”

“Come on,” Annabeth replied. “We need to get you back to the infirmary. _Now._ ”

Percy nodded. His head was heavy, his eyes burned. “... I can’t… I don’t know…”

“I can pull you onto the main path, but…” she sniffled. Her eyes stung. “I... I can’t get you back to camp. I can’t…” She leaned her head against Percy’s. “I can’t carry you.”

Percy took her hand in his and pulled it against his chest. He closed his eyes, summoning strength. He rolled over and pushed himself up on his elbow, biting his lip to keep from crying out. The pain ate at his stomach, it was hollowing him out. He felt a sudden urge to cry for his mother, even though it was pointless.

“Good job. You can do it.” Annabeth’s voice cut through the pain. “Come on, get up. You can do it.”

Percy pulled his knees up under him, pushing himself up to his knees. Annabeth put her hands on his shoulders to steady him. His head pounded and he leaned it into Annabeth’s shoulder dizzily. 

“Now’s not the time, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth grumbled. “I love you but now isn’t the time.”

Percy barely heard her. His ears were ringing. His whole body hurt, his veins burned. The ground suddenly looked very comfortable. He wanted to lie down and take a nap. But there was Annabeth, goading, pulling. And for that he had to stand. He put one foot on the ground and pushed weakly.

“Here, I’ll help,” Annabeth offered, pulling him up by his arms. He leaned on her, heavily, dizzily. “Can you start walking?”

Percy managed a nod. The ground spun underneath him. He’d barely made it a few steps before his stomach curdled and he groaned, collapsing as vomit spewed awkwardly from his lips. Somewhere in the background he heard Annabeth yell. Each contraction of his gut was a new agony, the wound burned and stung. Not for the first time in his life he wanted to curl up and die. No more pain. No more pain. 

He felt Annabeth’s hands on his neck, over his back. “Hey. Hey. Seaweed Brain. Come back to me. It’s okay. You’ll make it.”

Percy groaned. He gulped air, gasping against the sting of the wound as Annabeth held him gently. “I… I…”

“Focus on my voice. My hands. You’ll make it. I’ve got you,” Annabeth murmured. “Here, let’s try again.” 

Percy sat up. Tears billowed under his closed lids, leaking down his cheeks. “... I can’t, Wise Girl, I… I’m gonna… I can’t make it.”

Annabeth brushed the tears off of his cheeks. “You have to. I’m not giving you a choice.”

He opened his eyes, sending sharp pain through his head. He closed them again and let Annabeth pull him to his feet. He limped forwards, leaning on her painfully. Every step was agony. Breathing hurt. 

It wasn’t long before Annabeth was shaking under Percy’s weight. She took a breath and pictured Sally Jackson’s face, her smile, the way she held Percy when he’d just returned from being memory-wiped. She had to get Sally’s little boy home. She had to. She didn’t have a choice. The forest blurred around her as she pushed on. She remembered holding the sky, the weight crushing her lungs in, breaking her spine. _Compared to that, this isn’t so bad. This is tolerable. I can do this. It’s okay. How many times has Percy held you? Millions. How many times are you being asked to hold Percy? One. Fucking move it and stop shaking like a bitch._

She pushed on. Percy’s breathing was ragged. “Aie… Wise Girl, I’m…”

“You gonna puke again?” She was shocked at how hard her voice was shaking. 

Percy set his jaw. “... No.”

Annabeth nodded. “Don’t puke on me.”

“I won’t,” Percy groaned. 

They stumbled on. Annabeth tried to distract herself with pleasant thoughts. She remembered how she’d broken down, finally, in front of Sally Jackson, crying so hard she thought her ribs would break. She remembered how Sally had comforted her even in the midst of her own grief, stroking her hair and kissing her cheeks. Sally was practically her mother as well. Next to Thalia, she was the closest thing to a mother she’d ever had. She _had_ to do right by her. She had to.

She didn’t know how long they managed like that before they stumbled into the light of the strawberry fields, collapsing into the bushes in front of a shocked and hollering Miranda Gardiner.

When Annabeth came to, someone was shaking her. She didn’t remember passing out. She opened her eyes. “Will?”

“Yup. Percy’s being taken to the infirmary to get the wound fixed. Are you okay?”

Annabeth sat up. “... Yeah. I don’t even know why I passed out.”

“Could be lack of sleep, excess of strong emotions, simple overexertion from carrying Percy for gods know how long…” Will tallied on his fingers. “Or a combination of the three.”

Annabeth pulled herself to her feet. “Makes sense. How’s Percy?”

“Not well. It’s good that you were able to get him to the infirmary when you did. He’s sick.” Will shook his head. “I think he accidentally stumbled into a trap we set a long time ago and forgot to disarm.”

Annabeth’s stomach twisted. “We gotta go see him. He needs… he needs healing.”

“I’ll run ahead. I don’t want you to do any running right now. Walk nice and slow,” Will warned, taking off. 

Annabeth didn’t heed his orders. She ran after him.

“... Or don’t,” Will sighed. “But don’t blame me if you pass out again.”

“I won’t,” Annabeth assured. She matched his pace all the way to the infirmary. Percy had been dumped somewhat ungracefully in the bed. She knelt next to him, rolling him fully onto his back. “The wound’s on his stomach.”

Will nodded gravely. “Believe me, I saw.” He rolled up Percy’s shirt with an experienced hand, revealing the ragged wound. Will studied it carefully. “... Poisoned. But not severely. The poison probably expired a while before it got into his body, so its properties were all broken down.” Will scanned Percy’s body, the odd scratches lacing his skin. How pale his face was. “... He got a little scratched up by the brambles, I’m guessing?”

Annabeth nodded. “I think so.”

“Okay. That never killed anyone. Can you go get me some ambrosia and nectar?”

Annabeth crossed the infirmary and pulled a bottle of nectar from the closet. Will poured some on a surgical sponge and gently wiped it over his gut wound, humming softly as he did. Percy cried out weakly. 

“Shh, shh,” Annabeth soothed. “Will’s trying to help.”

Percy opened his eyes, trying to focus them on Annabeth. “Hurts.”

“I know,” Annabeth sighed, taking his hand. 

Will lifted his head. He looked tired and pale. “Will you go get me a can of antidote from the closet? The general kind will do.”

Annabeth kissed Percy’s knuckles before crossing the infirmary again to grab the antidote. Will applied some to the wound. “There. That’ll counteract any elements of the poison that are still active. And if it doesn’t, we can give it as an injection. It’s stronger that way.”

Annabeth nodded. “Makes sense.”

Will sighed. “... I’m gonna bind the wound now. I’m not gonna put in stitches yet. I think we should wait until the antidote takes effect first.”

“I don’t know enough about medicine to argue,” Annabeth sighed. 

“You know a good bit,” Will disagreed, wrapping the gauze tightly around Percy’s torso. “Okay, now we wait an hour or so and then it should be stitches time.”

Annabeth nodded, pushing the hair out of Percy’s face. His face was sticky with sweat. Percy leaned into Annabeth’s hand. 

“Is he feverish?” Will asked.

“... A little bit. Not very,” Annabeth admitted. 

Will studied him. “That makes sense. His fever should go down when the antidote kicks in. What I’m more worried about is blood loss.”

Annabeth nodded. “Do you have any blood on reserve?”

“Some. Enough to put him back in order, I think,” Will sighed. “But I’m gonna need to get more.”

“I’ll leave you to handle that,” Annabeth laughed. “Do you want me to get a blood bag?”

“Do. I want to get the blood into him. I don’t think he needs too much, but I want to… you can’t have too much blood, you know? Also, I know you know this but make sure the blood is…”

“-O minus, I know.” Annabeth retrieved the blood bag and a needle. 

Will picked up his arm, studying it carefully. “He’s got nice arms,” Will admitted, wiping down Percy’s arm with rubbing alcohol and sticking a needle into his bicep until he hit blood vessel. Percy groaned.

“I know, right?” Annabeth agreed, watching as the blood pulsed up the syringe. 

Will taped the needle in place. He opened the valve and blood ran down into the syringe and into Percy’s body. Annabeth watched as his skin regained color. “He looks less pale already,” she observed.

Will nodded. “Yeah. We’re basically pumping life into his body.”

Annabeth held Percy’s hand. “... Will this hurt him?” She pointed to the needle.

“Not much. Just a little. I mean, it doesn’t feel good, but it isn’t agonizing. Why?”

Annabeth shook her head. She couldn’t even express the nature of her concern except as a strong desire to keep him from pain. “No reason.”

Will nodded. “No, I understand. I bet it feels the same way as when I see Nico suffering from nightmares. You want to protect him, don’t you?” Will studied her, his eyes gentle.

Annabeth nodded. She studied Percy’s face some more. “Percy?”

Percy managed a small nod. 

“Okay. Just wanted to see if you were awake or not.”

Another tiny nod. 

She kissed his pale lips. “Go to sleep. It’s good for you.”

Percy relaxed a little at the kiss. 

Will studied her. “I think it’s good for him that you’re here. I think you’re good for him.”

Annabeth blushed. “I’ve been more trouble for him than anything, but he agreed to it at the beginning of our relationship, so…” She laughed.

Will nodded. “Yeah. Hey, I just realized something.”

“What?”

“We’re both blondes who wound up with dark-haired Big Three kids.”

Annabeth shrugged, distracted by Percy’s tongue hanging a little bit out of his mouth. “Sounds right.”

Some time passed. Will removed the bandage. “The antidote seems to have worked. That’s good. That means we can stitch it now.”

Annabeth nodded. She lay her head on the pillow next to Percy’s, her eyes closed. Her body felt heavy. “Do it.”

Will stuck the needle into Percy’s gut. Percy woke up, crying out. “What’s happening? Don’t hurt me!”

“I’m not. I’m just stitching you up,” Will reassured. 

Percy relaxed slightly. He reached for Annabeth’s hand and Annabeth took it, squeezing. She rubbed his knuckles gently. 

Will finished the stitches. “Ugh. That… that might leave a scar.”

“What’s one more?” Percy mumbled. 

“... But it is done,” Will concluded. “... Annabeth, is it okay if I take a few minutes’ leave? I want to make sure Austin and Kay are okay.”

Annabeth nodded, welcoming the alone time with Percy. “You do that.”

“Tell me if he needs anything.”

“Will do.”

Will left. Annabeth leaned in and kissed Percy’s lips. “I love you, okay? You feeling a little better?”

Percy looked up at the ceiling. “I love you too. I feel a little better. More lucid. And I don’t feel like throwing up as much.”

“Good,” Annabeth responded. 

There was a pause. Annabeth put her head on Percy’s chest, listening to his heart beat. She kissed his chest gently and closed her eyes, melting against him. He was warm. 

Percy stirred, stroking her hair. “How did you carry me back here? I remember you… you dragging me, but…”

“... I don’t know either,” Annabeth admitted. “I don’t. I’m so tired.”

“... You want to go back to your cabin and sleep?”

“... No.” Annabeth paused, running her fingers over his knuckles. “... I want to stay with you, Seaweed Brain. I didn’t do all that work to dump you here.”

Percy’s breathing became slightly uneven. His heartbeat quickened. “... I… I want you to stay with me, too.”

They held each other for a few more moments, enjoying the closeness and warmth. Percy focused on her, the smell of her hair, like lemons. He loved that smell. It had gotten to the point where the smell of lemons was enough to make him almost instantly aroused. It had been pretty awkward last spring when he’d walked in and found his mother baking a lemon cake.

Annabeth paid attention to the rise and fall of Percy’s chest, up and down, up and down, steady as a metronome, like waves breaking on a beach. Safe. Undisturbed by poison. She chuckled. “... As if some shitty expired poison could take you down.”

“It almost did,” Percy reminded. “I still feel terrible.”

“Need a bucket?”

“... I’ll make it,” Percy sighed. “I’m not gonna puke. It just hurts a lot.”

Annabeth nodded. “No, I know what poisoned wounds feel like. It does hurt a lot.” She paused. “Not as bad as broken ribs, though. _Those_ are the worst.”

“I haven’t broken any ribs ever,” Percy admitted. “In fact, it’s been a pretty long time since I’ve broken anything at all. But yeah, broken bones are hell. I don’t know how you dealt with your busted ankle so well during… during…” Percy trailed off.

“Experience,” Annabeth sighed. “And a godly pain tolerance.”

Percy stroked her hair, touching each curl. “Makes sense. Yeah, you always did have a better pain tolerance than me.”

“I mean, there was a time in my life when I would break like six bones a year. I just got used to it, really.” Annabeth chuckled softly.

Percy’s heart felt like it was being stuck with needles. “... I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Annabeth sighed. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not your problem.”

Percy felt a sudden urge to protect her. “... I’ll try my best not to.”

Annabeth giggled and kissed him. “Thank you.” She closed her eyes and relaxed. Her head felt like a lead weight, her body like a shapeless mass of sandbags. Percy’s chest was soft as a pillow. It made her want to sleep.

Her mind drifted. She remembered how Percy had told her he loved her in Athens, kissing her with the force of a typhoon. She remembered how soft her insides had felt in that moment, tender, warm, _loved._ She felt good even thinking about it. She wanted Percy to kiss her like that again, but didn’t know how to ask. 

She thought of Sally Jackson. How worried she would be if she knew Percy had been in infirmary. She decided that unless Percy carried some terrible crippling condition from it then Sally would never even have to know. After all, it was no use worrying Sally more than she had to be worried. She’d already worried enough for her little boy.

Annabeth’s mind traced back to Percy. He was safe. He would live. He would be healthy soon, probably before the end of the day if enough nectar was given. It would be okay. 

It would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble got fluffier than I expected it to be. Also, have you noticed that I like to make Percy get hurt? I mean, I just whump the shit out of the guy. I promise someday I'll write a Percabeth fic where Percy doesn't bleed, cry or throw up at any point.  
> Also, Annabeth has to have a nearly inhuman pain tolerance to break an ankle and proceed to get up and carry on without screaming or crying or lapsing into shock. I mean, that's inhuman for a demigod.  
> Also, does Percy ever break any bones in the canon? I don't remember.


	26. Implied Mitchell x Clovis- Why Are You Calling Me Sir?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico wants a nightmare cure from Clovis. Clovis has another visitor as well. Basically plotless, honestly. It was in my head so I wrote it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wound up with this tiny plotless thing. Hope you enjoy.

Nico knocked on the door of the Hypnos cabin. He wanted to see Clovis about a nightmare cure he said he could work on. As per usual, he received no response. Chances were everyone was asleep. He tried the door. It opened easily. He stepped into the dark of the cabin, blinking in the dim light. “Clovis?”

No answer. He moved towards Clovis’s recliner, seeing him asleep in it. He practically tripped over a figure sitting at Clovis’s feet. He nudged the figure with his foot. “Who’s this?”

“... Me, sir,” a tiny voice replied. 

Nico blinked, focusing. “... Mitchell?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is Clovis awake?”

“No, sir.”

“Please stop calling me sir.”

“Yes, sir. I mean… ugh, I’m sorry.”

Nico snorted. “It’s good.” He leaned in and shook Clovis. “Wake up, you legged chode.”

“Whu?” Clovis grunted. “Um notta legged chode!”

Nico didn’t acknowledge Clovis’s protest. “You owe me a nightmare cure, remember?”

Clovis stirred and yawned. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s over there on the table. Near the Lethe drip.” He yawned again. “Don’t actually touch the Lethe drip though, you’ll get memory wiped.”

Nico nodded. He retrieved a Saran-wrap covered beaker full of a blue liquid from the table. “This it?”

Clovis squinted. “Yeah.” He shifted and accidentally kicked Mitchell. “Oh. Who…”

“Mitchell.”

“Oh. Were you… are you…”

“I… I don’t know,” Mitchell murmured, almost helplessly. 

“At least get up off the floor,” Clovis said. He scooted over, making room in the recliner for another body. “Here, join me.”

Mitchell crawled into the recliner. “... Thanks.”

Clovis threw an arm over his shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

Nico turned to leave. “... How much of this should I take at any one time?”

“A hundred milliliters. No more or you’ll lapse into a coma.”

Nico nodded. He noticed how Mitchell was melting into Clovis. He was glad he was socially apt enough not to ask about their relationship to one another. He knew Mitchell was gay—he was Will’s  _ ex, _ for gods’ sake—but he didn’t want to risk embarrassing Clovis by insinuating anything. After all, they were sort of friends. Nico didn’t like humiliating his friends. “I understand. Thanks for doing this. Means a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” Clovis replied pleasantly.

“Goodbye, si— I mean, Nico,” Mitchell whispered as Nico left the cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mitchell calls everyone who even seems like a superior "sir" or "ma'am." It's left over from his boarding school years.  
> Also, Will and Mitchell dated for a short period of time in the October following the Battle of Manhattan. It didn't really work out- fifty percent Drew's fault and fifty percent incompatible personalities. But they both wind up in better relationships, so it all works out.


	27. Mitchell x Clovis- Forever Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew's done something terrible again. Mitchell's the victim. Mitchell is always the victim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place the November or so after Manhattan. Basically everyone is still a rolling trainwreck of PTSD and trying to soothe it however they can. In short: I will milk what was probably the worst event of most of these characters' lives for drabble inspiration until there's nothing left to write.

Clovis was deep in a pleasant dream when he was interrupted by his body being suddenly and violently jerked about. “Wha? Who?” He looked up, staring blurrily into the dark of the cabin. He couldn’t see anything, but he could hear gasps and sniffles.

“... I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I… I just…” 

“Mitchell? What’s happening?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I… please, forgive me for my… my rudeness, I…”

“Relax. I’m not that upset. Just sit down and relax,” Clovis soothed. He heard Mitchell sit down on the ottoman by his feet. 

“I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Why?” Clovis whispered. “What’s wrong?”

“... Will and I are done.”

“Done? You broke up?” Clovis tried to put on his most soothing voice.

“Yeah.”

“Why?” 

“Drew told me I should… should break his heart to see if he wanted me hard enough. She said it was a rite of passage and I was the only one who hadn’t done it. I did it to avoid trouble. We… we had a really, really bad fight, Will and I, and when… when I went to apologize, he said we weren’t…” Mitchell’s voice broke. “He said we weren’t good for each other anyway.”

“... I’m sorry,” Clovis whispered tenderly. “Drew fucked you over big-time.”

“Like she always does,” Mitchell whimpered. “Clovis, I… I just want… I’m so desperate, I…”  _ Kill me. Kill me. Kill me. _

“What do you need?” Clovis murmured. “Look, I’m your friend. I want to help you.”

“Is there… is there a drug you can give me that… that’ll put me to sleep for a really long time?”

Clovis stretched and sat up in his armchair, trying to focus his eyes in the dark. “I have a drug that’ll make you sleep for eight hours.”

“Any longer?”

“Probably not. Not safely, anyway,” Clovis yawned. 

“Safety schmafety. If I die I die,” Mitchell sniffled. 

Clovis’s heart twisted. “... Hey, don’t say that. Your sister needs you.”

“Are you  _ kidding- _ oh, you meant Lacy.” He paused and hiccuped. “I mean, I’d feel bad, but she’s a sweet, popular girl. She’ll make friends easily.”

“... What about me? I thought we were friends,” Clovis murmured. “Do I not mean anything to you?”

Mitchell was silent. Clovis heard him sniffle.

Clovis scooted over to make room in his recliner. “Here, come here. Cuddle up close. I mean, only if you want it, of course.”

Immediately, Clovis felt Mitchell’s slim form curl tight to him. “Thank you, Clovis, I…” Mitchell’s voice broke. Clovis heard him begin sobbing quietly.

He pulled him close, stroking his overlong silky hair. “... I’m so sorry, Mitch, I… I don’t even know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” Mitchell squeaked. 

Clovis held him, letting Mitchell’s tears soak into his shirt. He felt his shoulders shake, his chest heave. Holding him like this,  _ feeling _ him cry, was so intimate, so  _ personal,  _ that Clovis’s own sinuses stung. He sniffled back the tears and shifted, rubbing Mitchell’s back. He wanted to help him, but he really didn’t know how. He thought of his mother. What had his mother done when he had cried? Cuddled him. He was doing that. Gave him kisses. Bad idea, given the situation. Sang to him, sometimes. He could do that. Clovis cleared his throat and hummed a few bars, something soothing. Some old hymn of Hypnos, something he’d been taught a long time ago. He felt Mitchell begin to relax, melting into him. His gasps became little sniffles, his heaving body relaxed. 

“... Thank you,” Mitchell whispered. “... I don’t know what you did, but thank you.”

“Of course,” Clovis soothed. 

Mitchell sat there for a moment longer. “... I should go. I’ve… I’ve disturbed your nap long enough.”

Despite the fact that he was exhausted, Clovis said “No, stay.”

“... Really?”

“Yeah, really. I… I’m worried about you.”

“Why?” Mitchell murmured. 

“... Because you said you didn’t care if you died or not.”

Mitchell didn’t say anything for a long time. “... Clovis, I… that’s none of your business.”

“... Okay,” Clovis said placidly. “I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

“... I won’t let you,” Mitchell whispered. “I’ll make sure you never see me hurt myself.”

“That’s my Mitch,” Clovis murmured, stroking Mitchell’s hair as he drifted off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might have a continuation where Mitchell winds up hurting himself and trying to hide it from Clovis. Obviously it'll be tagged if there's anything too terrible or disturbing in it.  
> Also, Mitchell is another good target for angst. I mean, he fought through Manhattan, and I headcanon that he was in boarding school with Sadie and Drew and Lacy (mentioned in Serpent's Shadow), so his home life probably isn't so hot. Without going into a full essay (which I actually suck at writing, lol), there's a lot of potential.


	28. Mitchell x Clovis- Pills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew puts her brother through hell. Mitchell responds poorly. Because he's falling apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my thirtieth drabble on this doc! I should do something special.  
> Also, this takes place shortly after Manhattan like the last one. In fact, it's kind of a continuation of it.  
> Also also, suicide attempt warning.

“... Well, if you’re gonna be that much of a little bitch about it, then maybe you shouldn’t even be here, sweetie,” Drew chuckled, flipping through some chick mag while lying in her bed.

“I’m not being a bitch, I just think that-”

“Shut it, babe.”

“-you should-”

“Do you want to scrub toilets again? I can make Chiron make you do it for the rest of the year.”

“-fuck it,” Mitchell sniffled. His eyes stung. “I’ll go.” He turned and left the cabin, grabbing his backpack on the way out. He flopped down on the hill behind the cabin against the wall and pulled out a packet of sleeping pills. Something Clovis had made for him when he’d told him he’d been diagnosed as an insomniac. He remembered how Clovis had pleaded with him not to hurt himself the previous night. His eyes filled. “Forgive me,” Mitchell whispered. “Please, please, Clovis, forgive me. I never meant you harm, I just… I… I can’t do it anymore.”

He pulled out a bottle of water and downed three. Exhaustion filled his limbs. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. Three more. His head spun and he gasped, tears filling his eyes. Six more. His stomach curdled, agony, his tongue hung out, drool spilling. Disgusting. He was disgusting. He whimpered and shoved two more down, finishing the packet, gagging, choking, the water spilling from his lips. No. He couldn’t throw up. It was too vile. He didn’t want to be vile. His heart pounded, rolling over, hanging his head. The slight pressure on his stomach was too much, he squeaked in revulsion as vomit spewed from his lips. “O-o. No… no… please…”  _ They said this was a dignified way to go. They said I’d make a beautiful corpse if I died this way.  _ “No… no…”

“Mitchell?”  _ Shit.  _ It was Pollux. Just his luck that it would be a handsome blond. “What…?”

“Do-on’t look!” Mitchell wailed. “Ple-ease!” 

“... I think you should go to the infirmary,” Pollux replied. “After you get your stomach under control, that is.”

“I do-on’t want… want Will to see me li-like this either,” Mitchell groaned between gags. “I… I’m disgusting. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” Pollux reassured. “Happens to everyone. That’s why we have an infirmary.”

“Will… we… broke up. I… I don’t… want to see him and he doesn’t want to see me.” His chest was agonizingly tight with shame, he wanted to beg Pollux to look away. He was disgusting. Vomit was drying on his shirt, his clothes, it was a disgusting sort of itch. His muscles screamed at him to lie down, roll over, sleep in the cool dirt, but he didn’t want to let Pollux see any more of him than he already had. 

“... Yeah, but… you were  _ vomiting, _ ” Pollux replied.

The harshness of the word felt like a stab to the heart. “But… Will, I…”

“You should go back to the Aphrodite cabin, then.”

“... I don’t… the sisters, they’ll… they’ll think I’m disgusting, I…” Tears rolled down his cheeks, they felt like ice.

Mitchell flinched at the presence of a hand on his back. “You’re not disgusting, Mitch. You just had a sudden bout of stomach issues. Here, I’ll take you to the infirmary. You need nectar and ambrosia. Oh, and can I call you Mitch?”

Mitchell nodded. “Go ahead.”

Pollux extended his hand. “May I help you get there?”

“Get where?”

“The infirmary.”

Mitchell’s eyes stung. “... Sure.”

Pollux pulled him up. Mitchell’s legs felt like Jello. He didn’t even think he’d taken enough pills to make himself that sick. Pollux half-carried Mitchell to the infirmary, tears trickling down as he shook, not wanting to even look up. He felt Pollux drop him into a cot. “There we go. Will?”

“... What?” came the familiar voice of Apollo’s boy.

“Mitchell’s got a stomach bug. Can he have some nectar?”

Mitchell heard Will come over and stand by his bed. “... Sure. Mitchell? You conscious?”

Mitchell nodded, trying to conceal his vomit-encrusted shirt by lying on his almost-blissfully-empty stomach. 

“Okay.” He heard Will sit down and he peeked at him through his hair. Gods, he was as painfully beautiful as he remembered. “Here, have some nectar. What are your symptoms?”

Mitchell’s eyes watered in shame. “... I threw up.”

“... Okay,” Will said flatly. “If anything, that’s good. You’ll feel better quickly. Drink some nectar.” He turned and walked to the other end of the infirmary.

Mitchell sat up halfway and drank. He kept his eyes closed, feeling tears billow under the lids. His stomach sunk and stayed there, low, cold. He felt so sick. He hadn’t wanted to vomit. He only wanted to rest. He was tired, so tired, he wanted to cry himself to sleep somewhere warm and friendly. Clovis. Where was Clovis?

“... Do you have any friends who’d want to see you?” Pollux murmured. “Should I get Lacy?”

“... No. I want to shower before I see any of my sisters,” Mitchell murmured. 

“... Okay,” Pollux whispered. “Who’s your best friend?”

“... Clovis. From Hypnos.” 

“That’s a bit of an odd match.” Pollux chuckled. Mitchell couldn’t help but think he had a nice laugh. “Want me to go get him?”

Mitchell’s face felt hot. He felt so  _ selfish,  _ claiming Clovis as his best friend when in reality Mitchell was only Clovis’s wingman, but he felt a powerful need for Clovis’s company. He couldn’t even quite say why. “Yes. Please.”

“Will do.” Pollux nodded and left to get Clovis. 

He was back in a few minutes with a very sleepy Clovis. “I’m gonna go get a snack. I’ll come back to make sure things are frosty.”

“Thanks, Pollux,” Mitchell replied, sniffling. 

“Mitch?” Clovis groaned. “Pollux told me you weren’t feeling well.”

“... I’m not,” Mitchell sniffled. 

Clovis sat down next to him, resting his head next to his contorted body. “... Have you been throwing up?”

“... Yeah,” Mitchell whispered. “You can smell it, can’t you? Oh, gods, I’m so so sorry, you can… you can leave, I’m so sorry…”

“Hey,” Clovis soothed. “I can’t smell it. There’s some on your shirt is all.”

“... I’m sorry,” Mitchell whimpered. “I’m so disgusting.”

“No you’re not,” Clovis soothed. “Or at least I don’t think you are.”

Mitchell curled up, facing Clovis. Clovis’s hazel eyes looked soft. No malice. No judgement. All Mitchell wanted. Mitchell’s eyes stung. “... Thank you.” 

There was a pause. Clovis sighed. “... What brought this on? Did you eat something funny?”

Mitchell held his stomach, pain cramping and squishing inside as he thought back to swallowing the pills. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “I don’t know.”

Clovis stroked soft pudgy fingers over his cheeks, brushing off the tears. “Are you sure? Think about it. Did you eat anything today that wasn’t normal camp food?”

Mitchell’s heart twisted. He hated lying to Clovis, he cared for Clovis immensely, but he couldn’t agonize him with the truth. “... No, I… I didn’t.”

“Oh. Did you… how did you sleep after I went to sleep? Did you take any sleeping pills? Those can mess up your stomach if you take too many.”

Mitchell buried his face in the pillow as he burst into agonizing sobs, unable to hold in the anguish. He didn’t deserve him. He didn’t. “Clovis… Clovis… C-Clovis, I…”

“Mitch. Mitch. Mitchie. It’s okay. Whatever it is, I’m not mad. I’ll never be mad enough at you to want you to feel like this. Whatever’s wrong, you can tell me.” Clovis’s voice was tender. “Talking is better than crying, Mitchie.”

Mitchell beckoned for Clovis. Clovis leaned in close. “Clovis, I… I… I… I… every one… every f-fucking one… every one of the pills you gave me, the o-ones to help me s-sleep, the o-ones you gave me be-because you l-loved me, or at least, at least ca-cared for me, I-I-I-I… every last one, I… every one… every one…”

“Did you take them  _ all?” _ Clovis whispered, almost in disbelief. Mitchell could see the pain in his eyes.

“... I’m s-s-s-sorry,” Mitchell squeaked between heavy sobs. “Clovis, I… I… I… every time she…. she… she says those terrible things to me, I-I-I… I just want… Clovis, I want to…”

Clovis stroked his cheek. He felt a sudden urge to kiss Mitchell’s tears away, which surprised him. He didn’t think he swung that way. But then again, Mitchell had an unusually soft and feminine face. “What do you want to do?”

“... Kill me,” Mitchell wept. “Please. Kill me. I’m so gross, so vile, I don’t want… I don’t want to live.”

Clovis’s heart twisted. “I can’t do that. Mitchell, I…”  _ I love you.  _ “... I care about you.”

“Why?” Mitchell sniffled. 

“Because you’re a sweet person. And you’re my friend. And it hurts me to see you cry like this.”

Mitchell started crying more softly. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Clovis. I never meant to hurt you. I… I owe you so much, I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t be your problem.”

Clovis yawned. “I don’t see you as a problem. I see you as my good friend Mitchie.”

Mitchell leaned his forehead against Clovis’s. “... Thanks. I… I’ll do anything for you. I will.”

“... All I wish is that you would stop… this,” Clovis whispered, his breath warm over Mitchell’s face. “But I worry that… that… you won’t be able to manage it.”

Mitchell sniffled. Tears rolled down his cheeks. “... Please, help me, help this, help the… the desperation, I can’t… I can’t. It’s so hard. I’m so tired.”

Clovis stroked his cheek. “I’ll do my best.”

They sat together for a moment. Clovis brushed tears off of Mitchell’s cheeks. “Don’t let her get to you, man,” Clovis soothed. “She’s just a dumb bitch.”

Mitchell managed a shaky laugh. “Yeah. I mean…” His smile disappeared. “... I just wish… I just wish Silena was still around. She could put her in her place.”

“She could. But someone else will. Maybe it’ll even be you,” Clovis reassured.

“... Maybe.” 

There was another pause before Pollux reappeared. “Is Mitchell feeling a little better?”

Mitchell nodded. “A little. If you don’t mind me asking, why do  _ you  _ care?”

Pollux shrugged. “You looked really sick and weak and fragile. I wanted to help you out.”

“So… I looked pathetic?” Mitchell suggested.

“... I wasn’t gonna put it so… bluntly.” Pollux shifted. 

Mitchell took note of how intense his wine-purple eyes were. How different they were from Clovis’s soft hazel. “... Thanks for that, at least.”

Pollux nodded. “... It’s cool.” He glanced around. “You need… you need a hug or something?”

Mitchell smiled. “... I could go for that.”

Pollux gave Mitchell a quick hug. Mitchell could smell something sweet on Pollux’s skin. He made a mental note to ask Pollux what it was later.

When Pollux pulled away, he glanced over at Clovis and asked “Hey, man, you okay? You look sad.”

Clovis took a breath. “... Yeah. I… it just feels bad to see Mitchell like this is all.”

Pollux nodded. “Of course. No, you two…” He paused, searching for words. “You two care for each other deeply.”

Clovis nodded. “... Yeah. We do.”

Pollux sat down beside Mitchell’s bed. “So when did Solace say you could get out of here?”

“He didn’t. But he probably wants me out of here as soon as possible, so I could leave now and he wouldn’t care.”

“I’m gonna ask him about that,” Pollux sighed. He stood up and crossed the infirmary, knocking on the door of Will’s office. “Hey, man, you still want Mitchell around? As a patient?”

“If his stomach still hurts, yes.”

“Does your stomach still hurt?” Pollux asked. 

“It’s a little weird, but it’s not that bad.”

“He’s feeling better,” Pollux called.

“He can go,” Will yelled through the door. 

Pollux turned back to Mitchell. “Yeah, he can leave. I’m guessing he wants a shower after all of that vomiting.”

“Let’s go back to my place,” suggested Clovis. “It’s only me and a sister in there now.”

Mitchell nodded, a tight something in his chest unraveling. Any moment his sisters didn’t look at him like he was disgusting was a good moment. The three boys made their way back to the Hypnos cabin, Pollux splitting off to go grab some sweats for Mitchell from Cabin 10. Mitchell tiptoed quietly into the Hypnos cabin shower, peeling his crusty clothes from his itching skin. It felt good to finally be able to scratch. He climbed into the shower, scrubbing the filth off of his body. Relief. He was finally clean, clean, no longer disgusting. He could look at people again without feeling dirty. He washed off all the dirt and slime with pure pleasure. 

He got out and stood nude, vulnerable, dripping on the tile, his hair running water down his back. He toweled off and put on the clothes Pollux had brought him. They smelled clean-he must have washed them recently. Leaving the room, he saw Clovis sitting in his usual recliner, Pollux in a chair next to him. Clovis sprang up when he saw him. “Mitchie! You feel better?”

Mitchell smiled. “... Yeah. I… I’m just tired.”

“I mean, you did take a whole pack of sleeping pills.” Clovis put a hand at Mitchell’s back and led him towards a nearby bed.

“I beg your pardon?” Pollux cut in. His eyes were wide.

“He took a bunch of sleeping pills. That’s why he was throwing up.”

Pollux gawked silently. “... I… okay. Mitchell, I… were you  _ trying _ to kill yourself?”

Mitchell shook his head, lying down. “I have no idea. I just… I just didn’t want to feel bad anymore.”

Pollux moved over to where Mitchell was lying. “I… I understand how you feel but… just be  _ careful _ with yourself.”

“Again. Why do you care?”

“I mean, I know we’re not besties or anything but… I don’t want you  _ dead, _ by gods.” Pollux shook his head.

Mitchell’s face felt hot. “... Thanks.”

Pollux patted his leg. “... I won’t shame you anymore. I think you should sleep now. You look exhausted.”

Mitchell nodded, already starting to nod off under Clovis’s gentle cheek touches and hair pets. “... Yeah. I need… I need to sleep.”

Pollux watched as Clovis hummed to Mitchell, Mitchell melting into the bed. He was fairly sure there was something deeper going on between Mitchell and Clovis. He wasn’t sure if it was a homosexual kind of thing, but he was fairly sure  _ something _ was going on. His Dionysus-kid intuition told him so. 

He’d have to get a little closer to them and see for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Instead, all I did was make Mitchell overdose on sleeping pills. Although honestly, all that vomiting did him good (inasmuch as the excess didn't get too far into his system)  
> Also, I'm not the best at writing verbal abuse. I kind of fudged it at Drew's lines lol.  
> Also also, what are you guy's opinion of Clovis x Mitchell x Pollux as an OT3? I kind of like it. I might write a drabble about that someday.


	29. Percabeth- The Only Family I Have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a few years since Percy moved out of his mom's apartment. It's been even more since Sally Jackson has been in any real danger.  
> Percy still has nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write a Percabeth thing. So I wrote a Percabeth thing. Plotless. Little hurt-comfort. Hugs and cuddles.

Annabeth tiptoed into her and Percy’s bedroom. Percy was lying on his side in their bed, curled up like a burrito in the comforter. It was midday, bright outside, so of course Percy was sound asleep. Annabeth knelt next to the bed, pushing hair out of Percy’s face. Percy’s brow was furrowed, he was muttering. Annabeth leaned in to listen to him. “Get back here,” he murmured. “Get back to safety. Mama. Don’t go down there. You’ll die. I can handle it. Mama.”

Annabeth swallowed. Damn it. He was having a nightmare. “Percy?” she whispered.

“Mama, I—MAMA!” he shouted, sitting bolt upright and screaming out. He was hyperventilating.

“Percy,” Annabeth breathed, moving to sit in front of him, sitting on his legs. She took his hands. “It’s okay. It was just a nightmare.”

Percy leaned his head into her shoulder. “Is… is my mother okay?”

“She’s fine,” Annabeth soothed. “I talked to her this morning. She’s fine.”

Percy sniffled. “... Annabeth, I… I…”

Annabeth stroked her fingers through his hair. His scalp was damp with sweat. “You’re worried it’s a demigod dream, aren’t you?”

Percy nodded and took a deep breath, holding it. “... I’m so scared. I don’t… I don’t want anything to happen to them. They’re the only family I have.”

Annabeth kissed his neck. “... I know. But… they’re safe. I really think they are.”

Percy nodded. 

Annabeth felt cool drops drip into her neck. Her heart began to beat rapidly. “Percy? Percy, are you…”

“Please, just don’t say anything,” Percy begged, his voice breaking. 

“Okay,” Annabeth whispered, stroking his bare back. She took a deep breath, trying to slow her heartbeat. It always scared her to see Percy cry. “Just take some deep breaths, okay?” 

Percy took a deep, shuddery breath. “... Sorry. I shouldn’t get all misty over this.”

“No, it’s okay,” Annabeth reassured. “Don’t worry. Your mom is important to you.”

“That’s an understatement,” Percy whispered. He sat up and brushed tears out of his eyes, sniffling. “Ugh. Sorry. My sinuses always get fucked up when I get emotional.”

Annabeth chuckled. “It’s not a problem. Do you want me to get you some Kleenex?”

“... No, there’s some on the… the nightstand.” Percy reached for the box, retrieving the Kleenex and blowing the water from his nose. He threw the tissue in a nearby trash can. He sniffled. 

“... How often does this happen? How often do you dream about… that?” Annabeth asked softly.

“... At least three times a week,” Percy sighed. He lay back down. 

Annabeth rolled off his legs and sat next to him. He put his head in her lap. “... I’m so sorry,” she whispered, stroking his hair. 

Percy leaned into her touch. “And… it hurts.” He shrugged. “It hurts a lot. And… I want to cry for her sometimes.” His voice broke. “As shameful as that is to admit.”

Annabeth nodded. “No, I get it. It would hurt me too to see your mother get hurt.”

Percy laughed. “... Thanks for understanding. You know, I’m so happy you guys get along well.”

Annabeth smiled. “Yeah, your mom is easy to get along with.”

Percy stared at the ceiling, not saying any more. He still looked sad. Annabeth stroked his cheek. He leaned into her hand slightly, letting his eyelids sink to half mast. She ran her thumb over his lips and Percy put a slight kiss on the pad of her thumb. 

Finally, Annabeth murmured “Is there anything I can do?”

“... I… don’t know. You said you talked to my mother earlier today?”

“Yeah, I did. She seemed okay.”

Percy nodded. “... Good. I… I might call her myself. Or Iris-message, anyway.”

Annabeth put a gentle kiss on Percy’s lips. “That sounds good. Do you want to go do that now?”

Percy sat back up, pulling his knees to his chest. “... Yeah. I… I’m gonna go put on a shirt and do that.” He stood up and went to the closet, pulling on a shirt before leaving the room for the kitchen sink. Annabeth trailed after him, slightly concerned. Percy started up the Iris-message. “Sally Jackson. Manhattan.”

The message flickered to life. Sally Jackson’s face appeared in the message. She looked tired, but safe. “Mom?”

“Percy?” She turned her head in the direction of the message. “Is that you? I’m sorry, I can’t see you so well.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Percy insisted. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m all right. Are you okay?”

“... I’m fine, I just…”

“You just?”

“... I had, I… I don’t know. I had…”

“Did you have another nightmare?” Sally asked.

“... Yeah. Someone… someone broke into our apartment and… and… you got hurt,” Percy managed, his voice breaking.

“Oh, baby,” Sally murmured. “I’m so sorry. Don’t worry, sweetie, that never… that never happened. It isn’t real.”

“... I know,” Percy sighed, sniffling again. “... It just… it makes me sad when I have these dreams.”

“Of course,” Sally murmured. “Don’t cry, sweetie. I love you. It’s okay.”

Percy nodded. “I love you too.” He blew his nose into a paper towel. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Sally replied.

Percy nodded. “... Seriously, thank you. You don’t deserve to have to mop me up every other day.”

“Sweetie, you’re speaking as if there’s something I’d rather be doing,” Sally giggled.

Percy’s chest felt warm. “... I love you.” 

She laughed, smiling and leaning forwards into the IM. “I love you too, baby. Also, when are you coming home again?”

“... Soon,” Percy responded. “Probably Thanksgiving.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then, I suppose.” She turned suddenly, looking over her shoulder. “I think Estelle’s up. I should go make sure she’s okay.”

“Why wouldn’t she be?” Percy asked.

“No reason. Just making sure. Are you okay for me to go?”

“... Yeah, I am,” Percy replied. “You go make sure Stella’s good.”

Sally nodded. “Goodbye, sweetie. I’ll see you later.”

“Goodbye, Mama.” Percy waved his hand through the message, dispersing it. He sighed.

Annabeth stood on her tippy toes and kissed his cheek. “You feeling better?”

Percy nodded. “Yeah, much.” He turned and pulled her close. “Thank you.”

Annabeth leaned her head into his chest. “... Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a headcanon that Percy's nose runs really badly when he's upset. Sally always carried tissues with her in her purse when he was little for this reason.  
> Also, I've written better Percabeth drabbles, I know. I just wanted to write and release something, and this was the result.


	30. Percabeth-Ache of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy has something that he doesn't want to remember. Unfortunately, he needs to come to terms with it before he can be the best boyfriend he can be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of child and spousal abuse.

_“‘It’s like goddamn werewolves…’ the way abuse will breed abuse.”_

Percy’s stomach turned. He closed the psych textbook he had been reading (as an assignment) and brushed it onto the floor. He stood up and paced the bedroom, trying to fight back the foul memories that were coming to the fore of his mind. The hand that forced him to the ground, that tore out fistfuls of his mother’s hair, that blackened her eyes and scarred her body in ways he’d been trying to forget since childhood… He grabbed a bottle of Coke, something sweet, virgin, and drank it deeply. His sinuses stung, and not because of the carbonation. He sniffled and put the bottle down, flopping down in bed as tears stung at the corners of his eyes. _What would it take for me to know I wouldn’t hurt her? Would I have to cut off my hands? Leave her forever? Just fucking kill myself? Maybe I should. I don’t… I don’t want to, but… if it would keep her from being hurt at my hand, then…_

His chest spasmed. His stomach sunk into a pit of shame as he realized that he was crying, and hard. _Fuck me, I’m a grown man, why am I crying like a little kid? Now I_ really _should just do myself in._ He buried his face in the pillow, tears sinking into it.

_… I wonder what it would feel like to die._

_I wonder if it’s a release. I wonder if it feels good. Like, the moment of death, not the bodily decay that precedes it. I bet it does. I bet it feels amazing._ He remembered the feeling of drowning in the nymphaeum, his chest crushing, veins burning, his every cell screaming for air. He remembered in that absolute moment of panic he’d felt more alive than he had in years, somehow. He wondered what would have happened if he’d never surfaced. He wondered how long he would have had to flail in agony before the sweet release of death overcame him. 

It only made him cry harder. 

_Oh, gods, I’m so unworthy, so unworthy, I just… I want… Annabeth, Annabeth, I’m so sorry, I wish… I only wish I could be a good boyfriend, good fiance, good husband, good father to your kids. I only wish I could be good for you. Annabeth, Wise Girl, my girl, my love, I love you so much…_

He was interrupted by a tender hand on his back. “Percy?”

 _Damn it._ That was Annabeth. “... Don’t touch me, please, I…” His chest spasmed, killing his speech.

The hand was removed. “Oh, okay, I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

Percy nodded. “Just… don’t, please. You’ll get… get hurt.”

Annabeth moved close to Percy, lying next to him without making physical contact. “... I’m not worried about that. You wouldn’t hurt me.”

Percy’s chest spasmed and he heaved a breath. “How could you be sure?”

“Because I know you,” Annabeth reassured. 

Percy hiccuped. “But do you? Annabeth… Annabeth, I… I… do you… do you… do you even know what… Annabeth, he…”

“Calm down. Take a deep breath. What’s happening? What’s wrong?” Annabeth asked.

“... I’m gonna… I’m gonna wind up like… wind up like… him,” Percy managed, sobbing. “I’m gonna wind up… wind up…”

“Okay. Who’s the _him?”_

“My old… my o-old stepfather,” Percy sobbed.

“Oh. Him. Why? What… oh, gods, Percy, what did he do to you?”

Percy’s chest spasmed. He turned around and buried his head in her chest, sniffling, crying like a child. “He… I… o-oh gods, he used to…” Percy took a deep breath, composing himself. He was so angry, so sad, his heart was clenching, every muscle in his abdomen was weak and exhausted. “... He used to… he hit her. He hit her like all the time. And she’d be… she’d be on the floor and bleeding so badly, and I remember there was… there was a time when she… when I couldn’t get her to move at all, for a really long time, all she did was lie there on the floor. And there was a time when he threw me down the stairs, and another time when he beat me up with a belt so bad it left scars. And the… the textbook said I’d be just like him.”

Annabeth was silent, prompting him to continue. “And… and… I killed him. We killed him. She and I. With Medusa’s head. Turned him to stone. And the cops… the cops never really even seemed to care. Annabeth, Annabeth, I… I’m a murderer and now I’m… I’m gonna be a child abuser too?”

“You did the right thing,” Annabeth growled. “When you killed him. Because from the sound of it, he would have killed one or both of you if you hadn’t. And I’m glad the cops don’t give a shit. And by the way…” Her voice became gentler. “... you’re not gonna be a child abuser or a spouse abuser or whatever. Because…” She sighed. “You… you have your mother’s heart. Percy, you’re sweet.”

Her words took a weight off of his chest. He gave a helpless sob, nuzzling her. “... Thanks.”

Annabeth stroked his hair. “Hey. I love you, okay? Don’t cry. It wasn’t your fault. You just didn’t know what to do.” She kissed him. “... Oh, gods, Percy, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She almost sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

Percy took a deep breath, trying to stabilize his breathing. “... I love you too. It’s not your fault. Don’t cry. Don’t blame yourself. I love you. I love you so much and I… I don’t want to hurt you.”

Annabeth held him, needing the warmth of his arms. Her heart ached at the thought of Percy being hurt, being abused. She loved him so much, so much. She’d do anything for him, but she didn’t know what to do now. 

Percy couldn’t stop crying. He cried and cried until his whole body was too sore to move. He felt sick from shame, sick from pain, sick from abuse, sick from crying, sick, sick, _sick._ He wished he was dead. Gods, he wished he was dead. He craved that release, craved it like he wanted to orgasm. He didn’t want to feel any of these terrible things anymore. 

Annabeth stroked his hair, kissed him, ran tender fingers over his skin. She hoped it would relax him. It hurt her to see him this sad. 

Eventually, Percy went still. Annabeth pulled away slightly. His eyes were closed. Annabeth didn’t know if he was actually feeling better, if he’d fallen asleep, or if he was just too tired to move. “Percy?”

“... Wise Girl?” he murmured.

“You feeling a little better?”

“... Not really.”

“... I’m so sorry,” Annabeth whispered. “Is there anything I can do?”

“... Just stay here,” Percy whispered. “Hold me.”

“Of course,” she murmured, stroking his hair. “I’ll stay for as long as you need.”

They lay together, her fingers lacing over him, through his hair, over his shoulders, his back, up his shirt, down to his buttocks, around the waistband of his sweats. She took in the curve of his back, his buttocks, his muscles. He was well-shaped. Whoever or whatever had crafted his body had done it with love, a brutal sort of love that sharpened wiry muscles and left scars. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her chest, slowly calming down, evening out. It was soothing. 

Percy felt a tenuous peace in his chest. He wasn’t crying, not anymore, but he felt like any little thing could send him into tears again. He tried to focus on Annabeth’s fingers, the way she touched him, painfully soft and gentle. “... Thanks,” he murmured. “Thanks.”

“... You’re welcome, Seaweed Brain.”

“... No, seriously. I don’t know if I’d… I don’t think I’d be the same person if I’d never met you. Like… I owe you so much, I don't even know how to deal with it. I don’t think I could ever repay you.”

 _But you were always there for me. When no one else was. Percy, I couldn’t be more thankful for you. I love you._ She kissed him. “... You don’t have to repay me for anything, Seaweed Brain. Just take this reassurance as a token of my love, okay?”

Percy melted into her a little more. “... Thank you so much. I love you, okay? More than anything.”

Percy felt her chest vibrate, a bright little giggle. “And you were worried that you’d wind up as a wife beater.”

Percy couldn’t help letting a small smile touch his lips. “... Yeah. I was. I still am. Will you… will you promise you won’t ever let me… let me do anything bad to you?”

“Trust me, I won’t. I’ll put a knife in your gut before you ever come close to me. I love you but I won’t let you hurt me.”

Percy smiled fully. A tight knot somewhere deep in his gut unraveled, his chest felt open and tender. “... Thank you so much, Wise Girl.”

Annabeth laughed. “... Again, you’re welcome, Seaweed Brain.”

Annabeth held Percy until Percy’s breathing became soft and even, gentle murmurs of “Annabeth” and “Grover” escaping his lips. She put a gentle kiss on his soft pink lips and left for a shower. Percy’s nose had run all over her shirt, and she felt snotty and gross.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read that quote about child abuse in a psychology textbook I'm reading for school. Something about bad parental role models. Gave me the inspiration to write this, anyway. I guess the moral of this story is that Sally Jackson was the role model Percy needed to keep his whole life from going to absolute shit. Or something.  
> Also, virgin=non-alcoholic.


	31. Chrisse- Insanity, Leather and Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarisse loves Chris. This means dealing with his extensive issues left over from the Labyrinth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by someone who said (like a month ago) that they'd like to see more Chrisse content that dealt with Clarisse and Chris's issues post-Labyrinth. I know I wrote something kind of similar to this a while back (it's not in the drabble doc, but it's called "I'm a man. I should act like one"), but I kind of like the idea myself. So here's a tiny little thing dealing with it.   
> Also, Clarisse has a dog here. His name is Buddy.

Clarisse huffed and tugged on the end of Buddy’s leash. “Hey, man, come on. I’m not gonna stand here and watch you eat grass. Get inside and we’ll get you some legit food.” 

The dog came reluctantly, trotting up the steps with his tail hung low. Clarisse jimmied the door of the cruddy basement open. She was greeted by darkness, which was to be expected since Chris was asleep. However, the hyperventilation she heard immediately after was not expected. “Chris?”

“Cla… I… please, I don’t…” Chris was babbling. 

Clarisse flipped the light switch and the ancient bulb flickered to life. Chris was leaning heavily against the wall beside the bed, tears streaming down from wide-open eyes. Clarisse un-harnessed Buddy and the two of them ran to Chris’s side. “Chris? What’s wrong?”

He reached out, his eyes glassy and scared. “I… don’t hurt me, I… I don’t… don’t hurt me, I do-I do-I don’t want to… to be hurt,” he gasped.

Clarisse took hold of him, holding his arms solidly yet gently. “Chris? Can you see me?” Her voice was intense.

“H-h-h-elp me, be… be… before he… he…”

“I’ll help you. I’m gonna keep you safe, okay?” Her voice softened, became more gentle. “I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay. Just trust me, okay? Remember that. Chris, I… can you see me? Look at me and show me you can see me.”

Chris, stiff and trembling, slowly leaned his head into Clarisse’s shoulder. “Clarisse, I...”

A tightness Clarisse didn’t know she had in her chest unraveled. She clung tightly to Chris. “I love you,” she exhaled. “Gods, I love you so much.”

Chris sniffled. He looked into Clarisse’s eyes, his own slightly clearer. “... I…” He took a breath and held it, but his chest spasmed violently before he could even his breathing. “... Th-thanks. I’m… I… I’m so sorry.”

Clarisse ran her fingers up and down his back. “... It’s okay. I… you scared me is all.”

Chris nodded weakly. A tremor rocked his body and he groaned. “So-sorry.”

Clarisse pet his hair. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. He’s not around anymore. He can’t hurt you. It was only a nightmare. I promise.”

Chris sniffled. “It was only a nightmare.” He hiccuped. “... It was only a nightmare.”

Clarisse pulled Chris down so they were lying down, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around him. “That’s the spirit,” she murmured. “Don’t cry.”

Chris buried his face in her chest. He took a deep breath, held it and released it slowly and shakily. “... I’m trying not to.”

Clarisse stroked his hair, kissing it softly. His hair was fuzzy. She almost admired his hair’s ability to not lie flat. “... You’re doing fine. It’s all okay now. You’re safe.”

He took another deep breath, biting back the haze at the edges of his mind, the fog that threatened to engulf him every moment. “...Thanks,” he murmured. “... I love you. I’m sorry.”

Clarisse held him, enjoying his warmth on her skin. “Yeah, yeah. I love you too. I…” Clarisse felt something prickle in her eyes. “... I was just worried that… I was worried you’d lost it again.”

Chris sniffled. “... I’m okay. For now, I’m okay. But… I worry too. I… I don’t want to go crazy. I… and when things like this happen, I get scared. I mean… I really… I really thought that… that… that  _ he _ was here again. That I was  _ there _ again. And… I get so scared.”

Clarisse squoze him. She shook her head. Yeah, her eyes were definitely wet. Her heart panged. “... I’m so sorry. I… I wish I could help.” She swallowed. “... I’m so sorry.”

Chris buried his face in her chest. He didn’t say any more. She smelled like leather and blood, something that Chris had begun to find soothing. Her arms were sturdy, which Chris also liked, although he couldn’t say why.

Chris felt Clarisse move her hand. “You okay?”

“... Yeah. Just… I don’t know.”

Chris looked up. Clarisse’s dark eyes were shiny and wet. “Hey, don’t  _ you _ start crying.” He brushed the tears from her eyes.

Clarisse leaned into his hand. “... I’m sorry. I just… I told you. I’m scared.” She looked down, looking vaguely ashamed. “I don’t… I don’t want to lose you again, you know?”

Chris’s face was warm. “... Thanks. I… I don’t want to lose myself again.”

Clarisse chuckled. “Of course. No one should have to go through what you went through.”

Chris melted against her. “... Thanks.”

There was another pause. Chris’s tears dried on his cheeks. The tension in his chest eased up. Clarisse was here. She’d make sure he didn’t lose himself. 

That was a good feeling to have. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently if you put a leash on a dog's harness as opposed to its collar, it spares them potential neck damage. Especially if they're prone to pulling against you.


	32. Implied Mitchell x Clovis x Pollux- Wake Up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clovis won't wake up for Mitchell, so Mitchell asks Pollux to help him. Short and fluffy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place around the same time as "Blinded" (the summer after TOA)

Pollux was taking his usual depression-and-PTSD-induced post-breakfast pre-writing-session nap when he was awoken by a knock at the door. He buried his face in the pillow, considering ignoring it.  _ I thought I missed the summer strawberry harvest. Damn. Well, Miranda’s company isn’t too much of a curse, I suppose. I can’t believe she’s dating an Ares kid. I thought she was too sweet for any of that nonsense.  _ He sighed and stretched. The knocking got more insistent. He ran his fingers through his hair and opened the door, fully expecting to see Miranda there. 

Instead, he was greeted by a slim boy with dark brown teary eyes. “Mitchell?”

“... Sir, I…” 

“Why are you calling me sir?” Pollux was too tired to be tactful. 

“... Sorry. Old habit. I… I don’t… I don’t know who else to bug about this but… I can’t wake Clovis.”

“He’s a Hypnos kid,” Pollux groaned. “That’s normal.”

“No, he… he usually wakes up for me,” Mitchell whimpered. “He’s not waking up this time.”

Pollux scanned his face. He looked legitimately frightened. “... Okay. I’ll come with you. We’ll give him a good shake and see if he wakes up.”

“... Thank you so much, Pollux, it means so much,” Mitchell sniffled. 

“Don’t mention it,” Pollux muttered, making tracks for the Hypnos cabin. He quietly opened the door, looking around. The Hypnos cabin looked normal. A smallish, pale girl was curled up in one of the beds. Clovis’s sister, a girl he hardly knew. He turned his head, seeing Clovis asleep in his recliner as usual. Pollux wandered over, shaking Clovis. “Hey, man, wake up. Mitchell’s worried.”

Clovis stirred and groaned, but didn’t wake up. 

“Come on, you fat cuckapuss. Wake up,” Pollux grumbled. “Your friend Mitchie is worried.”

“... Unh? Mitchie?” Clovis grunted, not opening his eyes.

Pollux gave Mitchell a knowing look. “Mitchell was worried when we couldn’t wake you.”

Clovis opened his eyes. He looked disoriented. “... Uh… sorry. I… I don’t know what happened. I think I just… I think I just…”

“... passed out?” Mitchell asked worriedly.

“... Or something.” Clovis rubbed his eyes. 

“Need the infirmary?” Pollux asked.

“... No.” Clovis yawned, looking around tiredly. “... I might have just… I don’t know. Hypnos kids pass out sometimes. Might have just been that.”

“... You seem concerned,” Mitchell noted, sitting on the ottoman in front of Clovis.

“... I don’t know. I… I mean, I… I’ve had issues with fainting spell-type issues in the past, so… sometimes I can’t tell.”

Pollux nodded. “Makes sense you’d be concerned. I mean… how do you feel?”

“Tired. Disoriented. But I don’t feel sick or anything.”

Pollux scanned him. “... You’re probably okay. Just keep an eye on yourself.”

Mitchell held Clovis’s hand, tracing over his pudgy palms. “... Yeah. Keep yourself healthy, okay?”

Clovis yawned. “Why do you two care so much?”

Pollux shrugged. “I mean, I’m just being nice. You two are sweet and I wanna be friends.”

“... Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Mitchell, who had been silent, suddenly spoke up. “I love you, okay? That’s why I care so much.”

There was a pause. Clovis giggled. “Aw, thanks, Mitchie.”  _ That’s such an Aphrodite thing to say. Telling your friends you love them.  _ Mitchell dove into his arms and they hugged, naturally. Clovis was surprised at the ease with which Mitchell snuggled into him, how  _ right _ it felt. Clovis didn’t quite know what to make of it, but he wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t one to fight the things that made him feel good.

“... Can I get in on this?” Pollux’s voice cut through Clovis’s thoughts. 

“Sure,” Mitchell replied, his voice muffled by Clovis’s shoulder. 

Clovis nodded assent. Pollux wrapped his arms around the two, awkwardly. He noticed how sweet Mitchell’s hair smelled. He suddenly wanted to cuddle him, if for no other reason than so that he could smell him all day. Clovis put an arm up around Pollux, bringing him closer, he slipped down to sit on the edge of the recliner against Clovis. Pollux’s eyes stung—when had he last been hugged? Oh, gods, he didn’t remember how much he wanted that contact.

Eventually, they separated. Pollux stood up and brushed tears out of his eyes. “... Thanks for that.”

“Of course,” Clovis replied. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Mitchell smiled, a rare sight. “It’s okay. Let’s go do something, shall we? I wanna do something as a friend group.”

“Of course,” Clovis replied, smiling. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coronavirus panic has basically fucked up my entire life so I'm gonna be here either a lot more or a lot less, I have no idea. Also, I like this OT3, even though Pollux is a good bit older than the other two. Not like pedophilia level older, but like 4-5 years older.  
> Also, Mitchell is just a rolling ball of neuroses. He's a germaphobe, he's disgusted by most bodily fluids, he bites his nails, he gets deeply concerned whenever he can't wake somebody, he's probably self-abusive, and he probably threatens to kill himself like every other day. Poor guy.  
> Also, Pollux becomes a writer post-BOtL to deal with Castor's death. I HC that Castor used to be an extremely prolific writer and Pollux took up the torch after he died in an attempt to get some of his work published.


	33. Mitchell x Clovis x Pollux- Bad Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pollux is prone to nightmares. Clovis helps him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you guys in an earlier set of notes that I HC'ed that Pollux is a creative writing major, right? Anyway, I also HC that he winds up crashing in a crappy little studio apartment in New Rome for a while. He kind of winds up a bit aimless post-college, as without Castor he doesn't feel like his life has a point. So he crashes in New Rome for a while and winds up having Clovis and Mitchell live with him because Mitchell doesn't have anywhere to go either and Clovis would feel too bad about living with his mom if he's not really doing anything with his life.

Clovis stirred, waking from a dead sleep. He came to his senses slowly, confused, his head fuzzy. Where was he? Oh, right, Pollux’s pull-out couch. With Mitchell sleeping maybe two feet from him. He sat up, his head spinning. It was the middle of the night. There was a light on in the bathroom and the door was cracked. What was happening? He slowly picked his way to his feet and went to investigate. He poked his head in and his heart practically stopped.

Pollux was lying on the floor, his arms crossed over his stomach.

Clovis ran over and knelt next to him, pushing hair out of his face. “Pollux! What… what happened?”

Pollux moaned softly. He was staring into space, his eyes dull. Tears were running over the bridge of his nose. “... I… Clovis, I…”

“... Did you drink too much or something?” Clovis asked, grasping at straws. 

Pollux shook his head. “... Clovis, I… I can’t take it anymore, I…”

“... What’s happening? Did you have a nightmare?”

Pollux nodded. “I… it’s Castor. It’s always Castor. I… fucking hell, I can’t…” A sob broke from his lips. “I can’t fucking take this anymore. I… I’m so fucking…”

Clovis wanted to help him into a position that was even slightly more dignified than curled up on the bathroom floor, but didn’t know how to start asking him about it. “... I can help you with the nightmares.”

Pollux struggled into a sitting position, breathing heavily and leaning against the wall in the corner. He twisted his fingers in his hair and moaned again. “Fuck me, I want… I want to fucking… I want to be with him again. I want to… I want to die and be dead.” He looked into Clovis’s eyes, his own wild, wide. “Kill me, Clovis. Put your pillow over my face and take my breath. I don’t… I don’t fucking… I don’t fucking want it anymore.” He was gasping his every word, wildly, desperately.

Clovis bit back the rising fear in his chest. “Hey. Don’t talk like that. I… Mitchell and I want you here. We care about you.” He pulled Pollux’s hands out of his hair and held them gently. 

Pollux shuddered, resisting the urge to strike at Clovis. He couldn’t stop shaking. “... I’m so cold. I… I want… I want… I want…” His lips moved wordlessly.

“You want a hug?” Clovis asked.

Pollux held out his arms. Clovis pulled him close, holding him against his chest. Pollux buried his head in his shoulder. His every muscle tensed. He felt vile, so vile, but he couldn’t stop clinging. Clovis was warm, soft, he was squishy like a pillow. Pollux couldn’t stop sobbing, his chest was too tense. “Six years,” he whimpered. “It’s been six fucking years and I… I’m still… still like this. I mean, fuck, I was 17 then. I’m 23 now. Fucking graduated. And I’m still so… still so… I still have… all these nightmares, I…” He shook his head.

Clovis rubbed circles on his back. “... I can help with the nightmares. I already told you I would.”

Pollux sniffled. “... Please, I… I can’t… I just want the… the pain to go away, I…”

“I know. And you know I’d take it all away if I could,” Clovis murmured. 

“... What’s going on?” came a small voice from behind Clovis. 

“Mitchell,” Clovis acknowledged. “Pollux is… he had a nightmare. He’s not doing too hot.”

Mitchell sat down next to them, his thin legs folding into his oversized tee shirt. “Pollux?”

“...What?” Pollux choked.

“... Is there anything I can do?”

Pollux shook his head. Mitchell huddled close to them, and Clovis put his arm around him, pulling him in and holding him tight. Pollux leaned in. The heat made him ache inside, their hands stroking over his back and sides felt like a thousand razor blades, but he couldn’t pull away. He hiccuped, tears flowing into Clovis’s shoulder. “... I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Clovis murmured. “You’re hurting.”

There was a pause. “... Have you been throwing up?” Mitchell cut in. 

Pollux nodded. “... I’m sorry. I know you think it’s gross.”

“No, it’s okay. You couldn’t help it. Just… brush your teeth. It smells bad.”

Pollux nodded. “Will do.” 

After a few more minutes, Pollux pulled away. He stood up, lazily, dizzily, teary-eyed. He brushed his teeth and leaned heavily against the doorframe, not wanting to move any more. He felt Clovis put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” he soothed. “Let’s go to bed.”

Pollux let Clovis lead him. He fell heavily into bed, tired, so tired, but he didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to see Castor’s dying body again. It would hurt too much. 

He felt a dip in the bed. Mitchell curled up next to him, Clovis on his other side with his pillow; the three of them crammed into Pollux’s full-sized bed. Clovis pushed his pillow so that it was under both his and Pollux’s head. “Here,” Clovis murmured. “This is a much better use for my pillow than what you suggested.”

Pollux nodded. He buried his face in the pillow as Clovis spooned him. The pillow smelled like Clovis’s hair. Pollux felt Mitchell curl up with his back against him, an invitation to spoon. Pollux put his arms around him, inhaling the sweet smell of his hair. The one upside of Mitchell’s relentless germaphobia was that he always smelled nice.

He heard Clovis begin to hum softly, a song to heal nightmares. Mitchell and Clovis were warm, it was safe. He was safe here. It was okay. His body felt heavy. 

He fell asleep, and for once in a long time, he had no bad dreams.


	34. Non-shippy- Don't Want to Be Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As we already know, Nico has nightmares something awful. 
> 
> Of COURSE it would be one of Will's friends who finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not remember writing this, but it was in my drabble doc and it was practically completed so I wrote a short conclusion and now I am posting it.

Nico woke in a cold sweat. He was trembling, panting. The darkness in the cabin was suffocating. He felt something wet fall on his leg and realized that he was crying, crying in a way he couldn’t stop. His stomach was churning. He stood up and stumble-ran to the light of his bathroom, falling to his knees beside the toilet. He set his head on the toilet seat and sobbed. Why did this have to happen every night? He knew that children of Hades were unlucky, but this was torture.  _ And Will wonders why I don’t gain weight.  _

Almost miraculously, nothing came up from Nico’s stomach. Once he was confident nothing would, he stood up again and staggered back into the main cabin, standing shivering in the dark with the cold of the marble penetrating his feet and the cool air piercing his thin boxers and oversized tee shirt. He paused. He couldn’t move. His feet were rooted to the spot. His legs felt too heavy to move, but he couldn’t relax either. He let out a weak moan and looked up at the ceiling, reassured slightly by the familiar wooden beams above his head.  _ I don’t want to be alone. Oh, gods, I don’t want to be alone. And I don’t want to bother Will. July’s such a tough month for him and he needs his sleep.  _ His head sunk back down and he squoze his eyes shut, causing more tears to pour down his cheeks.  _ What am I gonna do? Where am I gonna go, if I don’t stay here? _

He stumbled to the door and poked his head out of his cabin, looking around through the rings of cabins. More tears, relieved ones, trickled out of his eyes when he saw the lone lamp on in Cabin 20.  _ Lou Ellen. Of course. She’s just as much of an insomniac as I am. Oh, gods, of course it would be one of Will’s friends.  _

He pulled on sweatpants and his typical aviator’s jacket and slipped into the shadows. 

Lou Ellen was busy extinguishing her desk for the third time that night when she heard a thud behind her and a weak moan. She whirled, pointed her fire extinguisher at the intruder, and screeched like an autistic pterodactyl.

Nico clamped his hands over his ears. “Stop! It’s just me!”

“Oh, geez! I’m sorry!” Lou knelt down next to Nico, who was splayed out on the ground half-kneeling and half-lying down. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Why are you in my cabin at three in the morning?”

“I… uh… I…” Nico felt weak. “I… um…”

“You what? C’mon, out with it. You can tell me, I promise I won’t tell anyone,” Lou said gently.

“I… I had a… I just wanted to say hi,” Nico lied. He couldn’t say that he had a nightmare. It was too… babyish. 

“Right. Sure. You just were out for a little jaunt and decided to drop in. Sure.  _ That _ makes sense.”

“What do you want me to tell you?” Nico asked, his cast-down eyes burning. 

“The  _ truth, _ Nico. The fucking  _ truth.” _

Nico looked down. His lips trembled slightly and he bit them hard to quell it. “I… um…”

“Hey,” Lou started gently. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Nico shook his head and crossed his legs, slouching over. Lou scooted over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you? Can I at least give you a hug?”

Nico looked at her, scanning her face for signs of a joke. To his surprise, her face looked soft and sincere. “... Okay,” he agreed. 

Lou pulled him in and tucked his head against her chest. He sighed and relaxed, letting a few more tears slip out into her shirt. He felt around near-desperately for something to hold on to before curling his hands around her shirt, clutching it as the tears came en force. 

Lou sighed and stroked his hair. “What are we gonna do with you, huh?”

“... I don’t know,” Nico whimpered. 

“I didn’t mean that literally.”

Nico nodded. Lou held him for a little while longer, waiting patiently as he cried himself out, petting his hair gently in what she hoped was a soothing fashion. Gradually, his sobs turned to whimpers, the whimpers to sniffles, and the sniffles to slow, heavy breaths, and finally even the breaths evened out and his face grew peaceful. “Don’t fall asleep on me,” she whispered. “I need you to be able to get back to your cabin.”

“How about I do and say that I didn’t?” he mumbled. 

“I’m not sure Chiron will buy that if he finds us,” Lou giggled. 

Nico smiled despite himself. “I know. I just…”

“You don’t want to be alone?”

Nico nodded. 

“That’s fine. You can crash here for tonight. We’ve got beds,” Lou reassured. 

Nico nodded and sat up, his head spinning, his eyes hurting. “... Thanks.”

Lou helped him to his feet and he flopped into a nearby bed. “It’s all good. Just don’t wake me up screaming, okay?”

Nico yawned, already half asleep. “... I’ll try not to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, read this fic. Propping it is TOTALLY not the reason I'm posting this chapter in the first place. https://archiveofourown.org/works/19831117/chapters/46957636  
> It's like the best fic if suicidal Percy is your jam. Also, is suicidal Percy just normal Percy? Since Percy is basically suicidal in the canon?


	35. Some Apaolo- Return of the Sun God (Apollo's Rejection)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo wants to visit a few people at Camp Half-Blood after he becomes a god again.  
> Also, if by some bullshit he doesn't get his godhood back by the end of TOA I'm gonna HC it in, because it would be beyond stupid of Rick to not have that happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really can’t write accents very well. I’m very sorry. I also don’t know a lick of Portuguese. I just wanted to write a fic of these two. If you know Portuguese, feel free to translate Paolo’s lines, or the whole fic, whichever you feel. Just give credit, please. Also, his thoughts have been translated from Portuguese, because I headcanon that he thinks in Portuguese but as I said, I don’t know a lick of Portuguese.

Ever since Apollo had returned to Olympus, he’d had one thing he wanted to do. It wasn’t to heckle Artemis. It wasn’t to take the sun chariot for a spin. It wasn’t even to cuss out Zeus for turning him mortal. 

It was to visit one of the people that had truly seemed to be there for him when he had been mortal.

He’d had a tearful goodbye with Meg when he had become a god again. He did feel bad for leaving her, really, but there had been no good way for her to come with. She was an amazing hero. He didn’t want to corrupt her morals by offering her godhood. 

But he owed her a visit. Poor girl would be a wreck in his absence, right?

Apollo parked the sun chariot by the pegasus stables and strolled through camp. _Why…? There’s no one even_ looking _at me! Don’t they know? Did they just get so used to my presence that no one cares anymore?_ He looked around. _Ah, that’s my son. I should say hi._ “Will! My boy!”

Will turned his head. “... What do you need?”

“Do you know where Meg is?” Apollo asked. “Also, hello and how are you doing?”

“Meg is in the infirmary. She’s the reason I’m in a hurry,” Will said flatly. 

“Oh, dear,” Apollo cooed. “Should I come and see her?”

“Please. She could use a visitor.” Will shook his head. “The girl’s made more enemies than friends here.”

Apollo nodded fondly. “When I met her, I wondered if she was an Ares or Nemesis kid. What a good girl.”

“I’d use different words, but never mind.” Will pushed through the door of the Big House and walked him to the infirmary. Once they arrived, he gestured to a small figure curled up in a bed. “There’s your girl.”

Apollo knelt by her bedside and laid a hand on her cheek. “Meg? Dear Meg?”

“She’s asleep. I gave her some sleeping pills because she was… was in a lot of pain and couldn’t sleep.”

Apollo murmured a few words and a faint glow surrounded her. She sighed softly in her sleep. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay, my dear. You’re okay.” 

There was a moment of silence. The glow subsided. “... Do you think she’ll recognize me?”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“I’m a god now. She only saw me when… when…” Apollo shivered as if the word _mortal_ was a swear to him. 

“Look like you did when you were mortal, then,” Will suggested. 

Apollo glared at him, and for a moment Will wondered if he wasn’t about to suddenly come down with the plague. “I’d rather be struck by the Master Bolt.”

Will put his hands up. “Okay, okay. Don’t bother, then. I was just suggesting things.”

Apollo nodded. “Good, good. Well… maybe if I kept my physique but darkened my hair… and some freckles…”

“... A few zits…” Will added.

“I’d rather see _you_ struck by the Master Bolt. Anyway…”

“Glad to see I mean so much to you, Dad.”

“Anyway, dark hair, shrink down, go for the lean-yet-muscular look. Still recognizable as once… Lester, but still better looking. Yes. That’ll work.”

“So, like Nico, but with curly hair.”

“Well, your boyfriend does have a certain… a little color in his cheeks and he’d be beautiful!” Apollo caught himself. “Here, turn around and I’ll transform.”

Will shook his head and turned around. 

“Okay, you can turn back now!” came the call one moment later. 

Will turned. Apollo was now a bit shorter than him, with dark brown curls. “Looks familiar enough. Here, go roll in the pile of dirt by the pegasus stables and it’ll be perfect.”

“My dear son, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were starting to mess with me. I think this is perfect.”

“Right. Now, Meg…”

“You know I can hear everything you guys are saying, right?” came a small voice from the bed. 

Will jumped. Apollo whirled. “Meg!”

“Apollo.” She grinned up at him. “Why’d you come back?”

“I wanted to visit some people, my dear.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re one of them.”

Meg seemed genuinely surprised and flattered. “... Thank you.”

“No, really.” Warmth swelled in Apollo’s chest. “I missed you.”

Meg swallowed. Tears glittered in her eyes—where were her glasses? They weren’t on her round little face—and she pushed her face into the pillow. “Shut… shut up.”

Apollo sighed softly and stroked her head, humming softly. “... It’ll be all right. I’m immortal now. You… you don’t have to worry about losing me for good.”

“... Should I give you two a moment alone, or…?” Will asked. Poor guy had been standing there awkwardly the whole time.

“Please. I think the poor girl needs a moment.”

“Right.” Will nodded stiffly. “I’ll go. If anyone comes in hurt, you’re in charge.” 

“Mhm.” 

He turned on his heels and left. Apollo turned back to his young former mistress and put his head on the pillow next to hers. From there, he could just barely hear her crying. “... May I hug you?”

Meg nodded. Apollo pulled her head against his chest and she wrapped her arms around him, tight and snug like she really had missed him too. Apollo had always expected to be missed, of course, but this was different. This… this was _real._ He shivered head-to-toe and brushed something hot and stinging out of his eye. “... It’ll be okay. I swear. I’m the god of prophecy and I see it being… being okay.”

Meg looked up. Her face was caked with snot. “... How does it end? For me?”

Apollo didn’t want to tell her that he wasn’t allowed to say. “... You die in my arms an old woman. With your husband by your side.”

Meg managed a tiny smile and Apollo’s heart lifted. “Do I marry Joshua Tree?”

 _Again with him?_ “... Sure.”

“I knew it. I even relocated him over here after the war.”

“You _what?”_

“I replanted him behind the Demeter cabin.”

“... Of course you did,” Apollo snarked, although there was no real venom in his voice.

Meg nodded. She sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. A look of sudden serenity crossed her face as she lay back. Not happiness, just peace. 

“... You feeling a little better?”

“Yeah… yeah. A bit. I… I’m sorry. I just… I never really… I never had anyone come and visit me specifically… it’s been a long time.”

“... I’m sorry.” Apollo had to admit that he had no idea what that felt like. Even when he had been at his most uncared for, when he had been mortal, he had never been truly alone. He’d always had _somebody_ , or found somebody at least. Meg had only ever had herself. 

“It isn’t your fault,” Meg murmured. “You’re… you’re all right.”

Apollo giggled. “Thank you, young Meg. I suppose I am ‘all right’.”

There was a pause. Meg sat up and sniffled again. “... You couldn’t have just come to see me. There had to be someone else you wanted to visit.”

“Well… yes. One other Greek, and then on to the Roman camp to… make sure they’re doing… doing Jason justice.”

Meg nodded. “Sounds right. Wait, who’s the other Greek?”

Apollo’s face flushed deeply. “... Is Paolo Montes still here?”

“Oh, yeah. He was in the bed next to mine in here for my first few hours in here.”

“... Good. I’m glad he’s not…” Apollo paused and swallowed. “... I’m glad he’s okay.”

“... Is there something between you two that I’m unaware of?”

“... Not yet,” Apollo admitted. “That’s why… that’s why I wanted to visit him now that I’m a god again and have my godly language abilities back.”

“His English is a little better now than it used to be,” Meg said with a shrug. “I guess he finally got tired of no one being able to understand him.”

“I think I would too if I were in his place. Or… I’ve _been_ in his place. It’s just been a couple thousand years.”

“Wha… oh, right. The Romans. Anyway, his English is better. He’s still got an accent like you wouldn’t believe, though.”

Apollo’s heart fluttered. “Oh… of course.”

“You have a thing for foreign accents, don’t you?”

“... Just a tiny bit. Not at all as bad as Hephaestus.”

“... No wonder like three-quarters of his kids are Hispanic.”

Apollo snorted. “Of course. Anyway… where’s Paolo?”

“Will told him to go rest, so he’s probably in the Hebe cabin asleep. Why? You want to visit him?”

“... I’d like that,” Apollo agreed sheepishly. “May I go see him?”

“... I’m not… I’m not your master anymore, though.”

“I didn’t ask you if you were. I asked if you were okay if I went to go see Paolo.”

“Of… of course. Will I see you later?”

“Of course you will, my dear.” Apollo kissed her forehead. “Close your eyes, sweet Meg. I’d hate to see you burned to ashes by my hand.”

Meg did as she was told and Apollo dissolved into light. He reappeared by the front door of the Hebe cabin. He was struck once again by its intense _modesty._ It didn’t even have the bright gold facade that his cabin had. He knocked. 

“Come in!” a voice with a heavy Portuguese accent shouted from inside the cabin. 

Apollo cracked the door. “It’s me.”

Paolo was lying in one of the beds, bandages wrapped around his leg. “Who?” He looked genuinely confused. 

“... Apollo.”

Paolo grinned. “Apollo! You have come back! You are immortal now, yes?”

“Yes. I got my godhood back.” Apollo walked over to where Paolo was lying in the bed. “May I sit here?”

Paolo nodded. “Yes, of course. Your godhood was...”

“Obvious?”

“... Yes.”

“I noticed you’re speaking a lot more English now. What made you decide to learn?”

Paolo frowned. “Unfortunately, if people cannot understand you, they make the assumption that what you are saying is unimportant nonsense.”

“... I’m sorry. I know how it feels. When the Romans conquered Greece… same feeling.”

Paolo nodded and threw up his hand in a _what can you do_ gesture. “I guess it’s just the way things are.”

Apollo nodded. “Mm.”

There was a pause. Apollo’s eyes drifted over Paolo’s face and body. Paolo looked… tired, somehow. “Hey, are you… okay?” 

Paolo nodded. “... Yes. My… my leg’s just…” He shook his head.

“... Hurting?”

“A lot.”

“... What did you do to it?” Apollo asked.

Paolo chuckled. “Ah, that is a… that’s a funny story. I was… oh, what’s the word. Race. I was in a race against that girl from… your girl, your daughter. We were on the… the… horse carts?”

“... Chariots?”

“Yeah, them. Anyway, I… made a wrong move and… I crashed, yes?”

“Okay.”

“And my leg, it breaks. Snaps right in two.”

“Oh, geez. Your poor legs.” Apollo gently graced his hand over Paolo’s cast. “You really just don’t have good luck when it comes to the integrity of your limbs.”

“What’s that mean?” Paolo cast his eyes down, suddenly looking really shy. Maybe it was his hand on his leg, Apollo didn’t know.

“Well… what I said basically meant that you hurt your legs and arms a lot.”

“Ah. Well… that’s true.” Paolo rolled his eyes. “I’m hurt all the time.”

Apollo nodded and rested his hand on Paolo’s knee right above his cast. “It’s not fair how you’re always getting hurt like this.”

Paolo cocked his head. “I… ah… it’s okay. I’ll live.”

“I know you’ll live, but…” Apollo shook his head. “It just doesn’t feel right for you to be in this much pain all the time.”

Paolo’s lips quirked up. “Are you not the god of medicine? Can you not heal me?”

Apollo blushed. “Uh… yes, I can heal you. I can heal you right now.” He put his hand back on Paolo’s leg and spoke a few words. A shiver crawled down Paolo’s spine as heat circled his leg. He melted back into the pillow, relieved tears pricking at his eyes as the pain slipped away. “Thank… thank you,” he finally managed. 

Apollo saw the pure relief in his eyes and his stomach filled with butterflies. “You’re welcome. We should… we should get that cast off.”

Paolo lifted his head and gave a big smile. “Oh, yes, of course. Let us do that now.”

Apollo stood up. “You stay here. I’ll get a cast saw from the infirmary.” He leaned over and pet Paolo’s shoulder, unusually tenderly. “Close your eyes, darling.”

Paolo nodded and closed his eyes. Apollo traveled back to the infirmary in a burst of brilliant light. “Meg? Are you okay?”

No answer.

“... Meg?” Her bed was empty, her sheets rumpled. Apollo noticed that they were covered in an uncanny amount of dirt. _I guess she just left. Wouldn’t be out of character for her._ Apollo grabbed the cast saw and traveled back to Cabin 18. “I’m back, Paolo!”

“O-oh, good!” Paolo managed a nervous grin. “I was afraid you would… not return.”

Apollo smiled, a dazzling smile. Oh, how good it felt to have his godly confidence back. “Ah, don’t worry. A good doctor _never_ abandons his patients.”

Paolo blushed. “... Thanks.”

There was a long silence. Apollo took his cast off. Paolo sat up and scratched his calf. “... Apollo?”

“Yes?”

“... I don’t… I don’t… I don’t know. I think… I… this feels weird.”

“What? How?” Apollo asked.

“I… when you were mortal, it felt… different. To be with you. It feels weird now.”

“You mean now that I’m a god, my whole _presence_ feels different?”

Paolo nodded. “Yes. Strange.”

Apollo looked down. “... I don’t know quite how to answer that. I mean, yeah… I’m more powerful now, so… it _should_ feel different, but…”

“I… I don’t know if I like it,” Paolo admitted. “It is too… too…” He shook his head. “I do not know the word for it.”

Apollo shifted. “... I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean to turn… turn you off.”

“It is not your fault,” Paolo replied. “I’m glad you got what you wanted.”

Apollo felt tears sting at his eyes. “So… have I just been rejected?”

“... Maybe,” Paolo replied. “I… I am having trouble putting words to it.”

“But… do you not want anything to do with me now? A relationship? A friendship? Anything?”

There was a long pause. Paolo seemed deep in thought. Finally, he seemed to be able to put words to his feelings. “... Godliness is… it is a turn-off. For me.”

Apollo sniffled. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been rejected as a god. It stung worse than any other rejection he’d ever experienced. “... I’m sorry.”

Paolo sat up. “Do.. do not cry.” He patted the tears off of Apollo’s cheek with his bandanna. “I just... I do not want to be… left behind. Gods… they will leave you behind, yes? You do not settle… settle down with a god. If I am to take any… any lover, I wish… I wish for it to be… stable.”

Apollo held Paolo’s hand to his cheek tightly for a moment before releasing it, savoring the warmth. Unfortunately, Paolo had a point. There was no way that, in his godhood, Apollo could take a mortal lover and have it be stable. There was just no way. He was cursed. “... I’m so… I’m so sorry.”

“Give it some time,” Paolo soothed. “... Maybe I… maybe my mind will change. Who knows? Aphrodite works in strange ways, yes?”

“Yes,” Apollo sniffled. He stood up. “... I have to go.”

“Goodbye, Apollo,” Paolo whispered.

  
  


Meg was eating strawberries directly off of the bushes when Apollo crashed down next to her, appearing out of midair and falling on his behind. One look at him told her he had been crying. “Okay, what the fuck happened?”

“... Paolo dumped me.” Apollo burst into tears.

Meg rolled her eyes and sat down next to him, patting his back. “Don’t cry. Happens to everyone.”

“He said that… that my… my godliness was a turn-off for him.”

“Why, because gods are known to be unreliable?” Meg asked.

“... Yeah,” Apollo sniffled. “I… I don’t think it should… should it _hurt_ this much?” Apollo clasped his hands over his chest in a dramatic gesture, looking skywards and letting tears run over his temples. 

“I mean… if you cared about him, yeah.”

Apollo wiped his tears. “Maybe… maybe I… I don’t… I don’t know. I need… I need someone.”

Meg patted his back, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “That’s a lot of us, honestly. You should make a Grindr account or something. Plenty of fish in the sea.”

“What’s a Grindr?”

“Never mind. Anyway, there are plenty of people out there who would love a quick screw and don’t care that you’re gonna leave the next day. Men, women, whatever.”

Apollo nodded. He sniffled, feeling his nose running. A feeling he hadn’t felt since he was mortal. Fortunately, his godly sinuses handled it well. “I guess so. I mean… it still feels bad.”

“No, I know. I get it that you feel bad and I’m sorry. You need a hug or something?” Meg asked, putting her arms out.

Apollo nodded, diving in and pulling Meg into his lap. He squoze her like a teddy bear. “It hurts.”

“I know, man, I know.”

They held each other for a few minutes, Apollo’s tears running into Meg’s shirt. Apollo practically clung to her, clinging like she was a lifeboat, like he was a drowning man. This was a new kind of pain. In the back of his mind, he knew that by tomorrow he’d be balls deep in someone who wouldn’t care if he was uglier than Hephaestus, but in the moment, his heart felt like it was being wrenched between two large and unforgiving hands. Between two large, powerful, unforgivingly tender tan hands.

It was agony.

Finally, they pulled apart a little, still cradling each other somewhat. Apollo wiped his eyes again. “... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry on you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Meg sighed. “I knew as soon as I met you that I had gotten one of the more emotional gods.”

“... You could say that,” Apollo murmured. 

“I guess it’s the poetry,” Meg mused. “If you weren’t all up in your poetry you wouldn’t be crying all the time. I mean, I’d say it was because you were gay or something but Nico di Angelo is gay and _he’s_ not crying 24/7.”

“Thanks, Meg. Much appreciated,” Apollo sighed. “Love you too.”

“You’re welcome. Wanna strawberry?” Meg pulled one off the bush beside his head and gave it to him.

“... I’m okay.” Truthfully, his stomach was aching. He didn’t want mortal food to mess it up further. 

Meg popped it in her own mouth and swallowed. “Your loss. Anyway… are you… are you staying here tonight?”

“... Maybe.” He briefly considered asking if he could stay with her in the Demeter cabin, cuddle with her while he slept, but she was so young. It was just too weird. “... I guess I could crash with my kids.”

“You could,” Meg agreed. 

“Will seemed kind of angry at me, though. No idea why.”

“Could be because you didn’t say a word to him until he was fifteen years old. Or maybe he just hates your face. I don’t know.”

“... Could be,” Apollo replied depressedly. He stood up. “... I’m gonna go talk to him.”

“Cool. I’ll stay here and eat strawberries until Miranda yells at me.”

“Sounds good,” Apollo sighed. “Have fun with that, dear Meg.”

Meg nodded. “Will do, bonerhead.”

Apollo chose to ignore that line. He returned to the infirmary. “Will?”

Will turned in his desk chair. “Yes?”

“... Can I crash in the Apollo cabin tonight?”

“... I mean, I can’t really say no,” Will sighed. “The sick cot’s open if you need it.”

“Thanks,” Apollo sighed. “I think… I think I’m leaving in the morning, though.”

“Why?” Will asked. 

“... I don’t know,” Apollo lied.

Will nodded. “Hang out as long as you want. I don’t care.” 

“... Thanks,” Apollo nodded. “I’ll repay the favor later.”

“Sure you will,” Will muttered as Apollo was leaving. “Sure you will.”

Apollo, not wanting to harm his son, who he privately considered to be a very beautiful boy, opted to ignore that comment. Instead, he walked back across the camp main, on his way to hang out with one of the few people who’d stuck by his side throughout the duration of his mortality.

He and Meg spent the entire rest of the day eating the ripe strawberries right off the bushes, and it was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk. I had Paolo speak in English here. Dunno why. I mean, I guess he just got tired of people not being able to understand him. Also, I'm sorry if anyone here is, like, a hardcore shipper of him and Apollo. I had Apollo get rejected, lol. But in a nice way. Not a bitchy way like Reyna did.  
> He also seems to me like the type of guy who doesn't speak a word of English until he can speak it near-fluently. Anyone agree?  
> Also, someone should write Apollo's Grindr profile lol


	36. Non-Shippy-Will's Fuzzy Blanket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is cold. Annabeth helps out.

Will curled up on Percy and Annabeth’s couch, groaning. “I’m _cold.”_

Annabeth focused on his face. She was sitting in a hand-me-down easy chair that sported more than its fair share of mysterious stains. Rumor had it someone had died in it. “Are you sick? It’s not that cold outside.”

Will sighed. “... No. I’m not sick. I’m just cold all the time.”

“... That seems like some disease,” Annabeth replied worriedly. She cupped a hand on Will’s forehead. He was warm, but not too warm. “Well, you’re not sick.”

“I know. I’m just cold.”

Annabeth sighed. “Okay. Give me a minute.” She pulled out a large shapeless knitted thing and stuck knitting needles into it once again, adding more yarn, making it larger. It resembled some sort of lump. She’d tried cutting a head hole in it at one point, but it hadn’t helped. Also not helping was its particularly heinous shade of bilious green, or the fact that she didn’t even have that particular shade of yarn anymore and had to add a different color. She decided on mustard yellow. It couldn’t have made it any worse.

Her hands flew over the stitching, pulling it out. Will watched the shapeless fleece-thing grow larger at an alarming rate. He hadn’t known she could knit, but it did make sense. She was an Athena kid after all.

Finally, she bit her lip and tied off the yarn. “Okay. I think this is big enough.” She threw it at Will. “Here, put this on. Or try to, anyway.”

Will sat up. He turned it over in his hands. “... What… _is_ it?”

“Truthfully, I have no idea,” Annabeth sighed. “I think it started off as a blanket. I tried to turn it into a Snuggie and it all went to shit.”

“Makes sense.” Will pulled it over his head. It basically enveloped him. It was a moment before his head poked out of the head hole. “... This may actually be _too_ big. That’s kind of a… kind of impressive, actually. Good job.”

“How far does it come on you?” Annabeth laughed. 

Will stood up. Fabric pooled around his ankles. “... Past my feet, apparently.”

Annabeth shook her head. “Oh, gods. I fucked that up. Do you… do you want me to try and find you something else?”

“I would kill for this thing, Annie, don’t even try.”

Annabeth smirked. “Glad you liked it, Willie.”

Will shuddered. “Oh, gods. No one’s called me Willie since I came out as a homosexual.”

Annabeth bust out laughing. “Damn it. Of course. Well… I’m gonna call you that twice as much, then.”

Will smirked, leaning in. “Okay, Annie.”

There was a momentary stand-off before both parties busted out laughing. Will flopped down on the couch, wheezing with laughter. Annabeth fell out of her chair. “Ow!”

“You okay?” Will asked, extending a hand to her.

“I’m good,” Annabeth laughed, getting up. There was a pause. “I… I’m glad to have a friend like you.”

“Same here,” Will giggled. “And… thank you so much for this thing. I love it more than anything.”

“You’re welcome, Willie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the Snuggie I'm wearing right now.  
> Also, the Willabeth BROTP is something I would absolutely kill for.  
> Also also, I probably said this before, but I HC that Annabeth learns knitting and needlework after Sally and Paul tell her she should get another hobby to distract herself from Tartarus. It's not perfect, but it does help.


	37. Some Solangelo, Percabeth-Staring At The Skyline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy and Nico have a bit of a serious talk. Takes place at the same time as "Will's Fuzzy Blanket" (the previous drabble). Tyrant's Tomb spoilers. Written at 2 AM and never proofread so bear with me through any awkward phraseology.

“Do you ever worry that you’ll hurt Will on accident?” Percy suddenly asked. He and Nico were standing outside on the balcony of Percy’s apartment, staring at the skyline. Will and Annabeth were hanging out, but he and Nico had nothing else to do but stand around. It was a little awkward.

“... Sometimes,” Nico admitted. “I mean, he says he can deal with me, but…” Nico sighed. “... he’s got zero fighting skills, really, what’s he gonna do if I freak out on him?”

“... I guess he has a plan of some kind,” Percy replied. “Also, just out of curiosity, how much damage can you do with those… those shadows? I mean, you can kill small plants, but…”

Nico sighed. He sat up on the rail of the balcony and looked over at Percy with a you-wouldn’t-understand-even-if-I-explained-it-to-you type of face. “A lot.”

“Like…”

“Enough to potentially kill another human being.”

Percy didn’t know how to respond. “... Okay. But…”

“None of your business.”

“Yup,” Percy responded.

There was a long silence before Nico turned back to Percy and said “Do you worry about hurting Annabeth?”

“... All the time,” Percy sighed. “I mean… if I can control water and poison and shit then what about… what about… what about blood? Could I… I mean, I don’t know if some day I’m gonna get upset and she’ll go down bleeding from every hole in her body and then some.”

Nico looked down. “... Poison?”

“... Yeah.”

“How’d you find that out? I’ll tell you how I found out I can kill people if you tell me how you found out you can control poison.”

“... I mean, it was in Tartarus.”

“You’ve said enough,” Nico blurted. “I can fill in the gaps.”

“... Do you still want to… tell me how you found out…” Percy attempted.

Nico scanned Percy up and down. Could this guy keep a secret? He didn’t know. He’d never put a secret in Percy’s hands before. “... I will, but you have to keep it hush. I don’t want this getting around. I mean, by this point it’s only me, Coach Hedge and… and…” Nico cleared his throat. “... and Reyna who know about this.”

“... I’ll do my best,” Percy replied. “I won’t… won’t tell anyone.”

“... Thanks,” Nico replied hoarsely. “... Do you remember… do you remember that guy Bryce?”

“Sort of. He was kind of a dick, wasn’t he?” Percy replied. “I remember there was some scandal with… with him.”

“He killed his centurion, yeah. Anyway… I killed him.”

“You _what?”_

“Killed him.”

 _“Why?_ I mean, he was an asshole but still, why?” Percy gave a nervous laugh. 

“... Because he threatened to have Reyna killed,” Nico replied flatly. 

Percy didn’t respond right away. No wonder Nico was so broken up over Reyna leaving. He’d _killed_ for her. He’d cared so much for her he’d killed for her. “... I’m… I don’t really know how to respond.”

“... And I don’t regret it,” Nico continued. “I’m not sorry. You know why? Because he should have been put to death. He whined his way into only getting probation but he should have been put to death. So in short…” Nico shrugged. “I was right to do it. Even if Reyna didn’t give a damn for me in the end.”

“... Never said you were wrong,” Percy responded.

Nico gave a dry rasping chuckle. “Glad you’re on my side, Jackson.”

“... And… I’m sorry that… that you… that you feel like Reyna didn’t care for you at all.”

Nico’s face fell. His eye twitched. “... It isn’t your problem.”

Percy could tell he’d touched a nerve. “... I’m sorry for even bringing it up.”

“Again, not your problem,” Nico grumbled flatly.

There was a long, awkward silence. Percy wanted to help Nico, but he didn’t know how. _Story of my relationship with this kid,_ he thought. He looked over. Nico’s eyes were closed. He could see pain written in the lines of his face. “... Is… is there anything I can do to help?”

“... No,” Nico sighed. Then he started. “Actually, yes. Could you go get Will for me?”

Percy nodded. He turned and entered the apartment. Will was sitting on the couch wrapped in some giant ugly blanket-sweater-thing. Annabeth was sorting yarn in a nearby chair. “Will?”

“Yup?”

“Nico wants to have a word with you.”

Will stood up. The giant ugly thing pooled around his ankles. “Okay. I’m on my way.” He walked to the balcony, closing the doors behind him. 

Percy sat next to Annabeth on the arm of the chair. “You have fun with Will?”

“Yeah. He’s a good friend,” Annabeth responded. “Sweet guy.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty likeable,” Percy agreed. 

“What did you and Nico talk about?” Annabeth asked. 

“... Not much,” Percy lied. He felt bad about lying to Annabeth, but he was a man of his word. “Just some nonsense.”

Annabeth nodded. “Well, I’m glad you two can hang out now without killing each other. I think it’s nice that you two are working on your friendship.”

“I do too,” Percy agreed.

It was then that Nico pushed Will back inside. “... That’s about the amount of time I can stand to see you out in public dressed like that. Get inside.”

Will righted himself with some indignation. “Don’t insult it. Annabeth made it for me and it’s comfortable.”

Nico sighed. “So are your underwear, but I don’t wear _those_ in public.” Then he blushed, turning to Annabeth and Percy. “... I’m sorry.”

“No problem,” Annabeth laughed. “It’s not a big deal. Also… Will, that thing _is_ ugly. Don’t flatter me.”

“Well, I like it,” Will insisted. “And I won’t have it insulted.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Fine. Have it your way.”

 _“Thank_ you. I will.” Will flopped dramatically onto the couch. 

Nico looked over at Percy. He didn’t say anything, but Percy could already tell that he felt somewhat better. Percy thought about the soothing effect that Annabeth had on him. He guessed that Will had a similar effect on Nico. His heart warmed slightly and he smiled. Nico deserved to feel soothed. 

After all, they’d both been through it something terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will honestly has zero fashion sense. People are consistently surprised by this. They think he can dress himself well because he's gay, but he can't. He wears the same thing every day (tee shirt, hoodie, cargo shorts/pants/sweats) to avoid embarrassment (as his friends told him it was the least embarrassing of what he owned) and whenever he has to wear something else, Nico dresses him because Nico gets really bad secondhand embarrassment whenever Will's dressed badly. Also, that was a ridiculously long sentence. My apologies.


	38. Solangelo- Fix You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will, who recently started his medical internship, is having a few problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a long time after the canon. Probably like a dozen years after.  
> Also, I wrote this a long, long time ago. Like 4-5 years ago. I found it and thought it was post-worthy.

Nico lay in a full-size bed in the bedroom of a New Roman apartment. He was on his elbows, with headphones on, looking at the laptop he shared with Will Solace. The backdrop of the laptop was a photo of him and Will when they had first started going out. Will had his head back in a laugh, and Nico was blushing. Nico smiled fondly at the memory.

There was a knock at the door of his room. He opened the door excitedly, expecting to see Will, only to see Will's boss, Cecilia, standing in the door. Nico quickly tried to hide the fact that he was only wearing boxer shorts under his-well, Will’s- sweatshirt. 

“Oh, geez, I'm so sorry! It's okay, put on a pair of pants and we'll talk.” 

Nico quickly did as he was told and ran to rejoin the pretty brunette in the doorway. He sat down next to her on their sofa and she spoke. “So I let Will out early today from the infirmary.” Nico paused. Why would Will leave his job early? She went on. “We had a young kid come in with a whack to the head. He… didn't make it.” 

_ Oh. That's why. _ “How old was the kid?” Nico asked. 

“I don't know. Looked between 10 and 12.” 

“Gods. Okay. Where is Will now?”

“I… don't know. Come to think of it, he should probably be here by now…” 

Now Nico felt nervous. “Then let's go look for him! What are we waiting for?” Nico pushed past her and they left. As soon as they were out of the building, Nico gave the call to summon Jules-Albert. They hopped in the black limo and Nico thought for a moment. 

“Let's… just cruise around New Rome for a few minutes and see if he isn't just walking home or something.”

“Sounds good. I don't know his hangouts.”

Nico and Cecilia cruised in comfortable silence. She was another Apollo… kid? That didn't seem right to Nico. She was a healer and a doctor, not a child. Either way, Nico was almost always comfortable with children of Apollo, be they Greek or Roman. As for the one exception? Nico had given him a recommendation to change his career path to that of “Screaming Projectile.” Thankfully, he took the advice. 

They cruised through a network of small streets until they reached a street with a bunch of small market stands along it. It was 2-5 minutes away from the hospital and along Will's route home. Nico remembered it as the spot where he'd always taken his sister to get treats when they had some time alone. Nico looked along the side of the streets. He couldn't see Will.

“You see him?” 

“Nope. You?” 

“Nope.” Now Nico really felt afraid. “We're reaching the outskirts of town now. A few more minutes and it'll only be the Heroes’ Cemetery and the highway,” he said. 

“Then let's check the graveyard. He may be helping to find a nice spot for the dead boy.” 

“Maybe. Although…”

“Although?”

“He may be waiting there for me.” 

“Maybe. Let’s check it out,” the boss replied. Nico sat back and watched the scenery go by. Buildings, pretty buildings. Fountains. Then the sign saying you were leaving, and the bin where you could pick up your weapon.

They did not stop to pick up their weapons. Nico felt almost naked without his weapon. Whatever. They were going to a graveyard. They'd be on Nico's home turf. They'd be fine, Nico reassured himself. They turned down a side street. Nico relaxed a bit. They were almost there. They'd find Will.  _ He’ll be okay, _ he thought. The thought of Will was comforting to him.

The car slowed. Nico saw the sign marked “HEROES’ CEMETERY, PLEASE REMAIN RESPECTFUL.” Nico had helped make that sign, shortly after the war with Gaia. 

They parked in front of the gate, which was already open. Nico and Cecilia slipped inside. The cemetery was sort of permanently foggy, but Nico knew how to navigate it. He took the older woman’s hand and pulled her around the rows of graves, looked around every tree. 

“WILL!” he called. No immediate response. Nico walked further, towards the cliffs. Graves of old praetors, now. Jason was here, and Reyna would lie here, someday, if she wanted to. Once he got to the cliffs, he saw a familiar blond head in front of him and a little to the left. “Will!” he called again. No response. Nico ran for him. Will made no attempt to move. Nico grabbed his arm and he turned. “Will.”

“What do you need, Nico?” Will's voice sounded dead. 

“Why didn't you come back home? Why’d you come here?” Nico asked. Will made no response.  _ He looks  _ _ awful _ _ ,  _ Nico thought. “Come here. Let's go back to our apartment. It'll be nicer there, and you can rest. Okay?”

Will just ripped his arm free and turned back to the cliffs. His legs quivered, and he raised his leg to take a step, which Nico didn't see. He retracted the foot and his shoulders slumped. “I'm a sorry excuse for a medic,” he whispered.

“Mm?” Nico grunted in response. 

Will cleared his throat. “Never mind.”

Nico put a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Come here. I know I've said it multiple times, but I want to give you a hug. Okay?” Nico tried to make his voice sound gentle, which he wasn't good at. Will relented, putting his arms around Nico and his head on Nico’s shoulder. Will’s throat closed up. He hated crying and feeling sad. He felt weak and pathetic normally, he didn't want to feel more so. 

He tried to fight back the tears.  _ You're pathetic,  _ he thought.  _ Stupid, pathetic and a crybaby. You’re Apollo's worst side. Even if Kayla is technically an incarnation of Apollo’s rage and strength, his “worst” side, she can still fight for herself. She can shoot, and she's kind, and she's probably saved more lives than you ever have just with her archery. You can't even save your siblings. They're your own flesh and blood, and you fail them over and over again. Summer died in front of you. So did Lee and Claire. Claire was easily saved.  _ _ Easily _ _ saved. Austin and Kayla  _ _ would _ _ have died if your father hadn't been there. And your friends don't have it any better. Remember Lilac? She killed herself because of  _ _ your _ _ inattentiveness to her needs. And what about Louis? Dead at thirty-one, your mere presence destroyed him. You're just a nothing. No wonder your family didn't want you. No wonder you got thrown out. Lou and Cecil should have left you there to succumb to hypothermia and die. Why couldn't you have been a man for  _ _ ONCE IN YOUR LIFE _ _ and take that step? It probably wouldn't have even hurt, you fucking pussy.  _ Will's thoughts didn't even hurt him anymore. Nico was there with him. His formerly tiny, 5’8” boyfriend was there. Nico wouldn't let him jump, no matter how much he wanted to.

Nico turned Will around to head to the car, Cecilia close behind. Cecilia kept a hand on Will’s shoulder. Once they sat down, Nico wrapped his arms around Will. Normally, Will loved it when Nico held him. Today, however, he didn't think he deserved it. 

Nico felt Will’s sadness, as close as his own, like a fiery burn in his chest. It hurt him to see Will this weak. Nico felt the tickly motion of Will’s eyelashes as he blinked back tears, felt the tightness in his back and chest, felt Will’s lips quiver on his shoulder. Nico's own lip began to tremble at the feeling of his boyfriend's hurt. 

“I'm sorry,” Cecilia whispered. “I should have done more. I'm the real doctor. I should have stayed longer, tried harder.” Her voice was weak. Nico reached out and touched her hand. 

“Hey. It'll be okay. It's not your fault, either of you. Don't blame yourselves,” Nico whispered. Nico felt Will relax. He leaned in even closer, so his lips were touching Will’s ear. He made his voice softer and quieter and said “I love your sorry behind, Solace. I hate it when you cry…” Nico’s voice cracked. 

“Don't start crying, please…” Will squeaked miserably. “I-I can't…” His slight hiccups broke into miserable sobbing. 

Nico held him there against the relentless tides of misery. “Let it out, Sunshine,” he mumbled, running his hand through Will’s blond curls. Nico felt something warm in his stomach, just from the softness of Will’s gentle sunshine curls.  _ Will Solace is an angel on this earth,  _ Nico thought.  _ Why do the kindest people hold the most self-hate?  _

Will felt Nico’s arms around him, skinny, cool and gentle. His chest ached from crying, and his mind still spun with self-loathing. The voices screamed in his head, still, like they always did after he lost a patient. Will wondered with a slight shudder if they'd ever go away. He wanted them gone. He felt helpless, pathetic, a weak sobbing mess in his boyfriend's arms.

Will tried to lift his head off of Nico's shoulder. He was sure his face was horrible, twisted up and disgusting and snot-covered and too red. He looked up into Nico's eyes, slowly, hesitatingly raising his gaze to see Nico looking down at him with soft dark eyes.

“Are you better?” Nico asked. 

“M-maybe,” Will sniffled. “I-I'm s-so, so sorry. I'm not worth your time, Nico…” he whispered. 

“But you are. You're my angel on this Earth. You're amazing. Did you hear what Chiron said? He said you're the best healer of the past 200 years, Will. You can even reattach severed limbs. No one else on Earth can do that but you and have them still work afterwards, I think. On top of that, you're the bravest combat medic I've ever seen, and the best mediator. You can be annoying sometimes, but everyone has their faults. And we all love you in spite of it.”

“Y-you all have awful taste in people, then,” Will said with a slight gasping chuckle.

“No, we don't. You're the best person I've ever met,” Nico murmured.

Will gave another watery chuckle. “Stop it, you two. You'll inflate my ego too much.” 

Cecilia smiled sadly. “How can we inflate something that's nonexistent? You have the lowest self-esteem of anyone I know or supervise.” 

“... I'm sorry, Boss. I never meant to inconvenience or annoy you. I didn't know that my self-esteem problems were that obvious. I'll keep them under wraps from here on out, I promise,” Will said, his head bowed in shame.

“... Come here,” she said. “You're getting a hug, whether you like it or not.” 

Will went to her arms and snuggled in. “He's all cuddly,” she giggled. “No wonder you like hugging him.” 

“I know, right?” Nico smiled. “Anyway, we should get him home. Strap in, Jules-Albert isn't driving us anywhere unless everyone wears their seat belts.”

“Yeah, you're right.” She strapped herself in. Will moved away from Nico and they did the same, but Nico wouldn't let go of Will's hand. Nico and Will kept looking over at each other throughout the car ride, Nico to make sure Will didn't start crying again, Will to reassure himself that  _ yes, Nico is here. It's okay. _

When they got back to the apartment, Cecilia helped Will into the elevator up to their fifth-floor apartment, and Nico held his hand going up. No one else got on, which Nico was glad about, because as much as he loved his boyfriend, he was always a little afraid of being hated on or beat up for loving another male.

Upon entering the apartment, Cecilia pulled Will into a hug. “I know this is difficult for you. I hope you can come back on Monday, but I understand it if you can't.”

“I'll be back Monday. I just… feel like a failure because I got so upset and un-Roman-like and I know I’m a Greek but… I don’t know. I shouldn't have been such a pussy,” Will managed. 

“No, you're fine. It doesn't matter if you’re Greek or Roman or what. If you're upset and crying in the break tent, I'm going to let you off early. Okay?”

“No, it's-it's okay. I've cried on the job before. It’s-it’s not a big deal.” 

“Will,” Nico interjected. “That's not okay. It’s okay to let your siblings help you out in the infirmary. Please. You don't have to be invincible. Please, let us help.” 

“But healing’s all I have. Other Apollo kids are archers like Kayla, and good at range damage. Roman Apollo kids man the catapults and tell prophecies, both highly useful powers. I'm just a useless healer. I'm the only Apollo kid-well, actually the only demigod- from either camp who has no way of defending himself or herself. Even the boss here is a badass with a spear,” Will mumbled ashamedly. 

Cecilia smiled humbly. “I'm not that good, but thank you.” 

“But you are. I've seen you.”

“... Thank you, Will.” Then, she seemed to start. “I really have to go. I love you, kid, but I need to get home. I'm late for… an important date. Nico…?” 

“Yeah, I can handle him. I can help him.”

“Good. Goodbye, Will. Goodbye, Nico. I'll see you later.” 

“Goodbye, Cecilia,” Will replied.

“So I'm not “the boss” anymore?” she asked.

“Not when we're not at work,” Will replied.

“Okay, Solace,” she laughed. She hugged Will one last time, then left, leaving Nico and Will alone. 

Will sighed. “I'm a failure, di Angelo, and don't even try to tell me otherwise.” His voice cracked again. 

Nico put his arms around him and hugged his back. “I don't  _ fucking  _ care how much you think you're a failure. You'll never be a failure to me,” Nico whispered into the taller man’s ear, a feat that required standing on his tiptoes and looking up. Nico kissed a freckle right behind Will's ear before pulling away and leading him to the bedroom.

Will sat down on the bed, feeling himself begin to shiver again. His thoughts were catching up with him. He fumbled for his headphones, wanting to be calmed by the music. He thought he must be having a panic attack, his chest was so tight. 

Nico returned to his boyfriend with a wet washcloth. “Sit still,  _ tesoro.  _ It'll feel good, okay?” He gently began to wipe Will’s cheeks clean from salt. The cloth was warm and gentle, and Will relaxed a little. “You're here now. With me. You're-you're not surrounded by the dead and dying anymore. Even if I'm not exactly the first person you want around when you're upset, it's better than… better than being around death and pain… right?”

“Absolutely, darlin’...” Will tried for his normal happy voice, but it came out very weak. 

Nico kissed his quivering lips and held him there. “I love you,” he whispered into the kiss. “I wish you didn't hate yourself…” 

Will took a shuddery breath. “I-I wish we could see each other through the other one’s eyes. I… this is cheesy, but…”

“Go ahead,  _ tesoro _ ,” Nico said as he pulled away, rubbing Will's cheekbone gently.

“I think we’d both be so happy…” 

“I think we’d be happy too. I see you so favorably, I think you’d love yourself if you saw yourself through my eyes…” 

“You… do? But… you make fun of me all the time…” Will sniffled.

“You do the same thing, Will. It's just something we  _ do _ to each other. It doesn't mean a lack of love. If anything, it means we love each other  _ more, _ Will. It's a good thing.”

“Yeah…” Will dove in for another kiss. Nico leaned in and returned it, feeling Will’s warm wet skin beneath his fingers. Will felt Nico's lips twist into a smile. It calmed him.

When they pulled apart, Will nuzzled the side of Nico's head. Nico’s hair was silky. “Thank you, Nico.”

“You're welcome, Will. I love you. Is there anything else you think you need to be okay?”

Will shivered and yawned. “Maybe… stay with me? I don't want to be alone…” 

“Of course,” Nico murmured, helping Will lie down. Will extended his arms to Nico, and Nico lay down in them. Nico heard Will take a heavy breath. His breath rattled a bit, the result of the tears he’d been having not too long ago. 

Nico rubbed small circles on Will's skin. “Don't… don't you think you should put on some new clothes? You've been wearing these all day…” 

Will breathed a heavy huff. “Yeah, I probably should…” He stood up and changed, stretching his shoulders and shivering. Nico couldn't stop staring at his bare back. His tan, freckled skin and muscular shoulders would always seem attractive to Nico. Nico blushed, trying not to act on a flurry of impulses that had crossed his mind at that moment. He crossed his left leg over his right knee and clasped his hands in his lap. 

Will knew that Nico was looking at him. He didn't care if Nico liked to look at him when he was changing. He was used to being looked at, and he was also used to being shirtless. It was a child-of-Apollo thing, they didn't like to wear a lot of clothing. It kept the sun off of their skin, and they disliked that, so oftentimes they didn't wear any more than they absolutely had to. Will was unusually modest for an Apollo kid, actually; it was the result of him being ashamed of the extensive scarring on his back. However, he was comfortable around Nico; Nico had seen him nude before and had accepted him for his scarred skin just like he had accepted Nico for his.

Will, now comfortably only in his underwear, snuggled into the bed again. Nico put his arms around the warm body next to him as he spooned up and placed a kiss on Will's jawbone. Will sighed, feeling a tense something in his chest begin to unravel. His face hurt from crying, and the kisses felt good on his sore cheeks.

Nico took a deep breath. Will always smelled really nice, even when he’d been in the infirmary for days on end. Nico wondered if Will was as fascinated with the…  _ entirety  _ of him as he was with the entirety of Will. Nico propped himself up on his elbow and looked at the blond, who had become very still and quiet in the bed. Will's eyes were closed, and the lids and thin, delicate skin around them were puffy. Will's curls spread wildly around his tired head. Nico glossed a finger over Will's eyelid, and found it moist and warm to the touch. Will's curls felt like silk between the fingers of his other hand. His first hand, still wet from Will's tears, traced gently down the back of Will's head and down Will's neck until it came gently to rest on his tanned, supple shoulder. He moved those same gentle two fingers on down Will’s shoulder and fell on the bone at the base of Will's neck.

Nico had assumed that Will was asleep. He assumed that Will must have been so exhausted from the crying that as soon as he’d gotten into a reasonably comfortable horizontal position he’d immediately passed out. However, that assumption was proven wrong when Will reached up and touched his hand.

"O-oh… I'm sorry, Will.”

“Don't worry ‘bout it, darlin’,” Will murmured sleepily. 

“Thanks, Will,” Nico replied, kissing his shoulder.

“Welcome, Neeks…” Will whispered. Nico kissed Will's neck and Will sighed, quietly. “Nico…” he whispered. “I'm too tired for this right now… please, could you just stay with me? I'll make it up to you tomorrow morning, I promise.” 

“Of course, Will. I'm sorry.” He lay down and wrapped his arms around Will, nuzzling his skin as he went. “Goodnight,  _ tesoro _ ”

“Goodnight, darlin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This actually had a sequel originally, but it was really smutty so I'm not gonna post it.   
> Also, can you tell by now that I like to make Will cry?


	39. Fierrochase/Malex/Beatrice-The Things We Don't Talk About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus learns that barging in on people when they're in the shower can be educational in unexpected ways.
> 
> Not as smutty as the summary makes it sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found this scrolling through my docs. It's a little OOC, but since when has anyone cared about that?

Magnus was happy, or as happy as a dead person could be. The only thing that would make him even happier was if he weren't out of Doritos. He knew Alex had some, but he also knew that invading her room was a death sentence. However, he also knew that even if he experienced her garrote (for the second time), he would heal, as long as he stayed within the protective walls of the Hotel Valhalla, he was exempt from dying again. So he decided to risk it. He exited his private room, made his way next door, and knocked.

“Alex!” 

No response. 

“Alex! You in?”

Still no response. Magnus knocked harder and rolled his eyes. The door wasn't even locked.  _ This is strange,  _ he thought.  _ Alex usually keeps it locked. She- Alex is a girl today, right? Yeah, yeah she is- she hates people going through her things or even seeing them. I'm surprised she ever lets me in her room, and we’re sort-of dating.  _ He rolled his eyes and barged in.

Alex wasn't in. It took a moment, but Magnus was able to hear a faint sound from her bathroom. It sounded like… singing? He crept closer and listened. Something in a foreign language, maybe Spanish. Or Japanese. Alex liked anime music. He could also hear shower water running behind Alex’s singing.Magnus’s stomach fluttered. Alex had a pretty voice, shaky and somewhat velvety.  _ Is… is she singing about me? Nah, probably not,  _ Magnus thought. Magnus knocked on the door. Alex didn't hear him. He cracked the door and peered in, against his better judgement.

Big mistake. Alex shrieked and shapeshifted away, turning into a pit bull and turning towards the wall, but the damage had been done. Magnus could think of no other thing to do but to turn and run, and that's what he did. He bolted through the halls of the Hotel Valhalla until he reached the roof and he just stood there, shaking. There was only one thought running through his head.  _ Alex is a  _ _ dude _ _? It makes sense, I guess. She… he? is a little stronger in the upper body than your average female… and her voice was a little deeper… but I always thought… I always thought… I mean, does this make me gay? I never thought of myself as… I never thought I… well, I did have that one kiss with Jackie whatsername that wasn't so amazing, but I didn't think that one bad straight kiss made you… I'm so confused. I have too many questions, and too few answers.  _

_ But I love Alex. I do. And I do care about him… her… whichever. And I know that I should talk to her/him, because he/she probably feels like I hate her now. And that's untrue. That's so, so untrue. I love Alex. I really do.  _ Magnus took a deep breath, trying to work up the courage to go talk to Alex. He was honestly afraid that this was the incident that prompted Alex to end their relationship, or kill him, either one. Magnus turned around just as Alex flew out the door and slammed into him.

“Oh… hey,” Magnus started.

“Don't ‘hey’ me, Maggie.”

“I'm sorry, Alex. I really am. I didn't mean… I didn't mean to… see what you didn't want me to see. I didn't mean for you to feel violated.”

Alex paused. It was a really, really long pause, and it made Magnus somewhat uncomfortable. In the fading light, he could have sworn that he saw a tear run down her face.

“It's… just… hard,” Alex forced. “You spend your whole fucking life feeling like something you're not half the time and being shit on for it, and then you finally find some sense of love with somebody and of  _ course _ they have a desired gender, 95 percent of people do, and you know that there's a 90 percent chance that you aren't… aren't what they want you to be… biologically, and then they find out the hard way, and they run away, and… and…” Alex trailed off, her breath jerky.

Magnus didn't know what to do. He turned to Alex and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I… um… I'm sorry. I don't know what to… to say. I really don't. I'm sorry, Alex. I… I don't…”

“Let the other shoe drop, Maggie. I understand that… you…” Alex took a long shaky breath. “You don't want to date… another male.”

“That wasn't what I was saying. I was saying that I didn't… didn't know how to comfort you. Because I don't know how it feels. And I never will. But I still… I still… care about you. I still…” Magnus sighed and did the one thing he thought he could do: he leaned in and kissed Alex on the cheek. She tasted like salt, which only solidified Magnus’s theory that his actions had brought this normally strong and stoic person to tears. “I'm sorry, okay?” 

Alex was silent for a few minutes, then yanked Magnus into a hug. Magnus’s heart was accelerating in his chest as he hugged back. Alex was warm, and her hair was soft.

After a long time, Alex spoke again. “You're forgiven.”

“I'm glad you forgive me, princess.”

“Will you  _ shut up?” _ Alex asked.

“Nnnope. You're my little princess.”

“I'm not little! And I'm not even a princess some of the time.” 

“Well, you're my little prince those times.”

“Who made you so bloody  _ sappy,  _ Maggie _?” _ Alex replied. 

“I don't know. And don't call me Maggie,” Magnus laughed. 

“ Alright, _Beantown,_ you like that better?”

Magnus sputtered. “No!” Then he sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. “Why do I put up with this level of  _ abuse?” _

Alex stuck out her tongue. “Because you love me, you arse, that's why.”

_ "Arse?” _

"Shut up. I've been spending too much time with-with Mallory,” Alex protested.

“Because you hang out with Gunderson, and Mallory hangs out with him too.”

“Yeah.” Alex slumped a little into Magnus's arms. “Gunderson’s a cool guy. I wish I had him around when… when I was still alive.”

“Hasn't he been dead for longer than any of us?” Magnus mused.

“I think so. I mean, I'm the newbie. You died right before me. TJ’s been dead since the Civil War. Mallory Keen died… I don't know when, actually, but it was recent compared to some others. She died in a car bomb, didn't she?” Alex asked.

“Yeah. She’s twentieth-century,” Magnus replied.

“So she’s been dead for…”

“She’s exactly in the middle.”

“Yeah. So yes, Gunderson’s been dead for longer than any of us.”

Magnus didn't have much more to say, so he didn't say anything, just watched Alex’s face. Alex also stayed quiet, leaning out over the rail that kept the people on the roof from falling into the abyss. “It's really beautiful out here. How come I've never been here before?”

“I'm not sure. The only reason I know of this place is because someone showed it to me a while back.”

“Oh, who was it?” Alex asked. “That showed you this place, I mean.”

Magnus shrugged. “A Valkyrie. No one special, don't worry.”

Alex raised her eyebrow. “Oh, is that so?”

“Yes. That is so. I didn't even like her that much. She didn't-didn't like your sister Samirah all that much. She had some problems with-with children of Loki.”

Alex sighed. “Who doesn't?”

“I don't. Some of my best friends are children of Loki.”

“That would look _ great _ on a tee shirt,” Alex sighed dreamily.

“It would!” Magnus laughed. “We could go to Midgard tomorrow and get it printed.”

Alex smiled. “Yeah, we could!”

That was all the prompting Alex needed to be on board, Magnus knew. Even though there were people down in the human world that did not like her and would want to hurt her, she still wanted to go. That was something Magnus found honestly remarkable about Alex. “You know, Alex…” Magnus started. “You're really strong. Emotionally strong. And I like that in you. Even if your strength lends you to verbally abusing those around you, it doesn't matter, at least not to me.”

“Dear gods, Maggie, you're like the biggest sap alive,” Alex responded. 

“Just take the compliments, please.”

“Fine. Thank you.” 

Despite her protests, Magnus could see in the dim light that she was smiling and teary. It made her face and multicolored eyes look sparkly. “You're welcome. Do you need a tissue? A hug? Your face and eyes are wet.”

Alex looked like she had been caught completely off guard. She blushed, then hugged him, nuzzling the crook of his neck and burying her face in his trenchcoat. He squeezed her. “You're strong. You're very strong. You're my princess, and you're powerful.”

“Did you drink extra sap juice with breakfast this morning?” Alex mumbled.

“No. Why is me complimenting you so embarrassing to you?”

Alex shrugged. “I dunno. It just is.”

Magnus laughed, and Alex felt his chest rumble against hers. “Well, get used to it. At least when we're alone.”

“Okay. But only when we're alone. I don't like PDAs very much.” 

“Me neither,” Magnus agreed. “Physical love should be private.”

Alex nodded into his warm shoulder. 

Magnus kissed the top of her head. “I'm glad you're at least gonna let me shower you with affection in private.”

“I never said that!” Alex protested.

“I thought you were gonna let me shower you with compliments,” Magnus jested.

“That wasn't-”

“I thought you were gonna let me call you prince or princess.”

“No!”

“Kiss you all the time.”

“Absolutely not!”

“We're gonna sleep in the same bed and shower together in the morning!”

“Shut up, Maggie.”

"Fine, fine,” Magnus laughed. “And don't call me Maggie.”

“Look, you should feel lucky I'm dating you. We're not gonna be joined at the hip, okay? And I'm your girlfriend. I can call you Maggie if I want.”

“Okay, okay.” Magnus paused. “I'm still surprised that I didn't get any smart remarks for my comment about liking children of Loki.”

“Is there any remark to be made? If there is, I never saw it,” Alex murmured. 

“I don't know. You're usually the smart-mouth around here.”

“You're one to talk, Maggie.”

"For the last time, stop calling me Maggie!”

Alex stuck out her tongue and pulled away slightly, but still stayed close to Magnus's body. “Suck it up.”

Magnus groaned. He put an arm around Alex's slim shoulders and pulled her back inside. “Let's go inside. It'll be warmer there.”

“Your room or mine?”

"... Mine?” Magnus asked hopefully.

“Yours,” Alex agreed.

Alex was pulled to Magnus's room, and they sat down in Magnus's bed. “Let me sit in your lap,” Alex said.

“O-okay,” Magnus replied. 

Alex crawled into his lap and snuggled against him. “May I be sappy for a moment?”

Magnus smiled, stroking her hair. “Of course.”

“I'm glad I'm going out with you.”

“Aww, so you do care! I'm honored, Alex Fierro.”

“Shut up.”

“Nope. I'm gonna continue to bother you for all of the eternity we have together.” Magnus laughed into her hair. 

"For all of eternity?” Alex grumbled, sighing dramatically and rolling out of Magnus's arms. 

“For aaaaaaaall eternity!” Magnus laughed, kissing her again.

“Ugh.”

Magnus pouted and rolled onto his side, facing her. “Why ugh? Am I that unpleasant to be with?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you're no bed of roses to hang out with yourself, but I still love you.” Magnus pulled her in and cuddled her again. 

Alex sighed and snuggled in, her shoulders relaxing. Magnus put a hand up Alex's shirt and rubbed her back. His hands were warm and slightly callused, and the heat melted her. Alex hadn't realized how cold she was until Magnus warmed her up. “Thank you,” she murmured. “How did you know I was cold?”

“Magic,” Magnus replied. “No, really, if I'm cool, which I was, you're freezing. I'm never as cold as you are.”

“Oh, right. The whole… the whole Frey-son thing.”

“Right. Cool in summer and warm in winter,” Magnus smiled.

“That must be wonderful,” Alex sighed. 

“It is. Was especially nice when I was sleeping under that bridge,” Magnus laughed. It felt so goddamn  _ surreal,  _ talking about being homeless so casually like this. 

“I'll bet.”

“Yeah.”

There was a long pause. Magnus's thoughts drifted to the events from earlier. _“And then_ _they find out the hard way, and then they run away, and… and...”_ “Alex?” he started. 

“Mm?”

“The only reason I ran away from you earlier was because I was afraid you were gonna attack me. I wasn't disgusted,” he reassured. 

Alex looked up. She was blushing. “Oh, uh… thanks. And if I hadn't been so caught off guard, I would have attacked you, I promise.”

“That's the Alex I know. It's nice to see you back in good spirits.”

“Shut up and cuddle, Maggie.”

“Roger. And don't call me Maggie.”

“Right on, Mango,” Alex murmured as she drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had the headcanon regarding Alex's biological sex for a while. I don't know where I got it.  
> Also, I think I wrote them better in "Solangelo Meets the MCGA Gang." Although I think I wrote that after I wrote this. So maybe that's why.  
> Anyway, I don't write for the MCGA gang much. My favorite character in those books was probably Jack. Who was y'all's?


	40. Non-shippy (mentions of Percabeth and Caleo)- Put Her On A Parade Float

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guyzos have a counselor's meeting, Will's ideas get rejected, Calypso and Annabeth argue, Calypso and Annabeth fight, Calypso and Annabeth have a Serious Talk™. It's good fun. Mentions of Percy mentioning suicide. Because as we all know, Percy is very, very, very ready to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less fluff than normal, but some important talks get had.

“Okay,” Annabeth groaned. She was standing beside a chair around the pool table. It was a coolish day in late March, and they were having a counselor’s meeting that she really really hoped would be uneventful. “Let’s do this damn thing. Get this shit over with.”

“Sure,” Will broke in. “Let’s get this started. Everyone in?”

There were murmurs of agreement. Leo reclined in his seat. For the first time, Annabeth noticed he’d brought Calypso. _Why did… are they gonna… okay, we’re getting into cock measuring territory here. Well, three can play at that game._ She huffed, made eye contact with Calypso, and sat down in Percy’s lap. “Anyway. Let’s get down to business. Anyone have anything to declare?”

“Well,” Sherman started. “Clarisse put a hole in our ceiling on accident. Motion to have that repaired?”

“Sure. We can get that done by next week.”

“Speaking of Clarisse,” Will sighed. “Her birthday is coming up.”

“How is that even remotely relevant?” Percy broke in. “I mean, she hates most of us.”

“I know, but…” Will had the look on his face of a man who only just realized, in the middle of the sea, that he had forgotten to put the drain plugs in his boat. “... I mean, I just think we should do _something,_ you know?”

“Look, Will,” Annabeth started gently. “We could literally just put her in a wrecking ball crane, set her loose in an abandoned ghost town and let her bash a path of destruction and she’d be happy as a clam.”

“Can we even do that?” Will replied.

Annabeth shifted her eyes. “... I don’t know quite how to explain this, but I’ve literally seen her behind the wheel of one of those things and it’s not a pretty sight. You don’t want to give her one of those.”

Will sighed, deflated. “... Okay. I… it doesn’t matter. Let’s move on.”

“Let’s,” Annabeth huffed. “Now… Leo.”

“What?” Leo replied innocently.

“Why?” She gestured to Calypso. “She’s not a head counselor.”

“Since when do I not get to show off my super hot girlfriend?” Leo asked, grinning.

“Look, when you’re not here, you can put her in a fucking bikini and ride her around on a parade float but when you’re here, you gotta keep it head counselors only,” Annabeth huffed.

Calypso stuck out her tongue at Annabeth. Despite the fact that they were indoors, Annabeth felt a slight harmless gust of wind pass her. She couldn’t help but notice that Calypso deflated slightly at that. 

“And don’t use wind-summoning magic on me indoors. If you wanna go, we can take this outside,” Annabeth huffed. “Chiron doesn’t like it when we wreck the Big House.”

“Fine!” Calypso agreed. “I’ll fight you right after this if I get to stay.”

“Sure!” Annabeth agreed. “Now! Moving on! Anyone have anything else to declare?”

“No! Let’s go watch this girl fight!” Sherman bellowed excitedly.

They weren’t even out the door before Annabeth bodied Calypso and knocked her to the ground. Calypso held out her hand and blasted Annabeth against the side of one of the camp vans, sending pain shooting through her head. Annabeth rolled and ran for her, kneeing her in the chest and dropping her before she could fully get up. She grabbed her by the ponytail she was wearing and yanked her head back, kneeling on her back, leaning in close. _She’s not gonna blast me if it means she breaks her own neck in the process._ Calypso released a loud hentai-level moan. 

“... Seriously?” Annabeth asked. “Are you trying to psych me out? Because it’s not working.”

Calypso took the opportunity to punch Annabeth in the nose with all her might. Annabeth’s head snapped back as hot pain shot through her face. She fell off Calypso, landing hard. Her eyes watered. Calypso tore her hair free. “The moan worked either way, apparently.”

Annabeth growled. She jabbed Calypso in the kidneys with her sword. Calypso groaned, kicking at her and rolling over on her side. Annabeth dodged the kick as Calypso blasted herself at her, kneedropping on her stomach. Annabeth gagged painfully. White light flashed behind her eyes. “Ugh-!”

“Oh, does it hurt?” Calypso replied snarkily. 

That brought Annabeth back to her senses. She sat up as forcefully as possible, sending Calypso falling off onto her back. Annabeth lunged at her as Calypso tried to roll back up. Unfortunately, Calypso wasn’t fast enough. Annabeth shoved a knee in her gut and sent her falling back. Annabeth grabbed her hair again, lying on her, propped up on her arms. Her other hand kept Calypso’s skinny wrists pinned beneath her. She could feel Calypso wiggling. “... Just admit it, Calypso, you’ve lost this one.”

“Not if I…”

“You’ll break your neck. Don’t even try.”

Calypso seemed to sum her options. Annabeth was physically larger than she, and she had her pretty well pinned. “Fine. You win this one.” 

Annabeth rolled off of her. Calypso sat up. “... By the way, why do you hate me so much? I mean, I didn’t do anything to you.”

“You know why,” Annabeth growled.

“If this is about Percy,” Calypso started gently, “he said you two were only friends.”

“He did?” Annabeth said confusedly. “... But I’d kissed him minutes before he…”

“Well, that sounds like a case of him being stupid.” Calypso said. 

Annabeth was silent for a long time. “... It’s easier for me to be mad at you than at him.”

“And there’s our problem,” Calypso sighed. 

Annabeth didn’t respond. “... Although I was mad at him too.”

“As perhaps you should have been,” Calypso responded.

Annabeth sighed. “... I mean, I was… I was going through some shit at that point, and the more I think about it, the more I’m aware of how much I took it out on him, so… it kind of makes sense that he’d try and seek solace elsewhere. I mean… look, you weren’t the only one, even. You know that girl, she’s the Oracle now?”

“That I do,” Calypso sighed. “Although I don’t know her well.”

“She and Percy were close for a time. Then we found out that she used him to attain the role of Oracle. So…” Annabeth shrugged.

“Wow,” Calypso snorted. “Wooooow.”

“Yeah. Wow,” Annabeth agreed. 

“I don’t know if I’m one to talk,” Calypso sighed. “I mean… what with Leo and all. Although he offered, I never asked. So it’s a little different.”

“I mean, Leo would be happy with a watermelon with a wig on it and a hole cut in the bottom. As long as you’re not beating him with a stiletto heel it’s good.”

“I mean, he’d be into that,” Calypso sighed. 

Annabeth shuddered. She had a sudden, quite unwelcome mental image of a nude Leo Valdez. “Ugh. I don’t wanna think about that.”

Calypso shrugged. “He’s not the ugliest guy I’ve ever seen. He’s just kinda small and dirty. And after all, everyone needs a little softboy in their lives every now and again.”

Annabeth started. “You’ve learned modern slang well, I see.”

“Leo says a little too well.”

“He may be right,” Annabeth agreed. “But as long as you’re not trying to get at Percy, we’re good.”

“Okay, good,” Calypso sighed. “Although, if you die before we’re all old and ancient…”

“... then Percy told me last night that in that case, he’s killing himself as well.”

Calypso’s eyes went huge. _Shit. I dodged a fucking bullet._ “... I… uh… I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“Honestly? I didn’t know how to respond either,” Annabeth sighed. “I think I just thanked him.”

“That’s as good a response as any, I suppose,” Calypso responded. 

There was a pause. Annabeth held her stomach. “... I think I ruptured an intestine or something.”

“You need the infirmary?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Annabeth sighed and stood up. “... I’m gonna go do that. See you around, I guess.”

“Seeya,” Calypso responded, standing up. “I’m gonna go find Leo.”

“You do that. I’m gonna go see if Percy is still sitting exactly where I left him or not. It’s kind of funny when he does that. Reminds me of a Labrador Retriever. Anyway, I’ll see you later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rachel kind of did use Percy. I think she even admitted it herself. I mean, she really did kind of lead him along at points. Which was kind of a shitty thing to do. But definitely not the shittiest thing anyone in that series had ever done.  
> Also, this drabble is... not good. I just hope it was as funny to read as it was to write.


	41. Solangelo- Sympathy Cakes and Doing the Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's an inauspicious date for Nico, and the pain keeps coming back. Fortunately, Will and Cecil are willing to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title makes it sound more NSFW than it is. It's not obscene at all.  
> Also, I don't write as many Solangelo fics as I used to but I got some inspiration, so I hope you enjoy.  
> Takes place probably 1-2 years after TOA.

It was a cold day in mid-late December and Cecil was looking for Will. He’d seen him earlier from afar, but hadn’t spoken to him all day. Will had been lying on the shore of the lake, his eyes trained on the sky. Cecil was concerned that he was moping.

He’d already checked the infirmary. After all, Will was usually there. After not finding him there, he returned to the canoe lake where he’d seen him earlier. Will was still there. That was unusual for him. 

“Hey, man,” Cecil started, flopping down next to him. “You okay?”

Will looked up at him. “... Yeah, I’m okay.” He sat up. “I just… ugh.” He wiped his eyes. The cold had made them watery. “I’m worried about Nico.”

“Why? Because he wasn’t at breakfast?”

“Yeah. And… not just that. I mean… December is kind of bad for him.” 

“Hey, you and him both,” Cecil sighed. 

“... Yeah,” Will sighed. 

“So… what’s his issue? Can you tell me?”

“I mean… you remember that girl he came to camp with?” 

Cecil squinched his face up, trying to remember. “What did she look like?”

“Same as Nico, but female.”

“... Uh… vaguely,” Cecil responded. “Why? I thought she was in the Huntresses or something. Is he moping because she left?”

“No, he’s moping because she died,” Will responded in a fuck-you-you-absolute-moron kind of voice. “Idgit.”

“Oh, geez, I… shut up, dude! I had no way of knowing,” Cecil groaned. “Did this just happen?”

“No, it happened years ago,” Will sighed. “He just gets upset at the anniversary.”

“Oh… of course. Dammit, I feel like an asshole,” Cecil sighed. He stood back up. “Are you… are you gonna… what are you gonna do?”

Will sighed. He got a soft wistful look on his face. “I… I’ve been trying to give him some space. I think he needs some space before he’ll want anything to do with me, or anyone else for that matter.”

“That’s very mature of you,” Cecil replied.

“... Yeah, but… it’s so hard. I pass his cabin and I know he’s in there suffering, I can feel it and I… I _want_ to help, but I know that if I go busting in there and force comfort on him it’ll just hurt him worse."

“That sounds difficult,” Cecil said, breaking out one of his pre-prepared Sympathy Phrases that he kept on hand for situations exactly like this.

“Yeah. It is. Gods damn, it’s the hardest thing in the world, staying away.”

Cecil shrugged. “... Yeah. I guess so. Maybe… maybe we’ll try at three this afternoon? That gives him a few hours to vent any real rage he has.”

Will nodded. “... That sounds good.”

“Alright, man. In the meantime… wait.” Cecil had an idea. “Nico likes chocolate cake, doesn’t he? I’m not just making that up, am I?”

“No, he loves that shit. It’s his favorite thing in the world,” Will laughed. “And he’s so cute eating it.”

“Quit thirsting, Will,” Cecil groaned.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Will apologized. “Anyway, why do you ask? You gonna make him some sympathy cake?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Cecil responded. “I mean, Chiron doesn’t care if I use the oven as long as I don’t wreck his kitchen, so…”

“... Yeah,” Will responded. “Anyway, that’s a great idea. I like it a lot.”

“Cool.” Cecil sprung to his feet. “I’m gonna go do that.”

An hour and a half later, someone knocked at the door of the Hades cabin.

Nico lifted his head off of his snotty, tear-soaked pillow. He wiped his eyes. He was sure he looked disgusting like this, his eyes bloodshot, his face red. He couldn’t stop shaking. This always felt like the coldest day of the year, the one day he couldn’t get warm at all no matter what he tried.

He opened the door. Someone had placed a tray of cupcakes on the other side. Chocolate with vanilla frosting, his absolute favorite. _… For me? Why…?_

He knelt down and picked it up. There was a note on top. He squinted at it. The handwriting was about on par with your average third-grader, nearly impossible to read. _Will told me what today was. I’m really sorry. I made you these cupcakes._

Nico felt appreciative tears prick at the corners of his eyes. His fragile heart wasn’t ready for kind favors. He took the cupcakes into his cabin and put the tray on his bed. He picked one up. _They’re still warm, oh, it’s so good. I wonder who would do something this kind?_ He ate voraciously, his stomach felt hollow. His insides craved warmth and sweetness. Chocolate cake reminded him of her. 

It had been her favorite food. 

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he ate. It made him so sad, but it tasted so good. It felt like someone was dipping his heart in freezing cold water, killing the light at his core, extinguishing the warmth. He was so tired from trying to beat back the painful memories that he only wanted to drift into the warm darkness of an eternal sleep. Goodbye, consciousness, hello, peace.

He looked down. He realized suddenly he’d put away a quarter dozen cupcakes without truly comprehending what he was doing. He licked the frosting off of one more, put it aside and curled up on his side, feeling thoroughly fat and gross. 

  
  
  


An hour or so later, Nico heard another knock at the door. He didn’t have the energy to respond to it. He reburied his face in his pillow, too tired and sad to dry his seemingly ceaseless tears or clean the snot off his face. _Go away,_ he prayed. _Go away, go away, go away._

Unfortunately, the knocking did not go away. A moment later, he heard the door open. “Nico?”

 _Crap._ It was Will. Nico raised his head and made eye contact with him. He watched as Will’s face went from concerned to horrified to saddened and back again before he finally said “... I’ll get you some tissues.”

 _Damn. I must look really rough,_ Nico thought, sniffling. His heart hurt, he didn’t _want_ to make Will sad, but he didn’t know if he could have faked happiness successfully. 

Will returned a second later with a box of tissues. He sat down on Nico’s bed next to him. “Can you sit up, darlin’?”

Nico sat up. He was too tired to fight Will on anything. Will cleaned his face with a gentle hand. His touch was warm, _warm,_ and so soft he thought it would break him to bits. “... Thanks,” he murmured, his eyes teary. 

“It’s all okay, darlin’. I don’t care.” Will stroked his face. 

Nico looked up. His pale blue eyes shone with soft concern. “... You’re too sweet.” 

“Better to be too sweet than not sweet at all,” Will responded. He dropped his hand, leaving a warm spot on Nico’s cheek in his wake. “Speaking of sweet, did you get the cake Cecil was gonna make you?”

“... The cupcakes? They’re over there,” Nico responded. He pointed to the tray on his nightstand. “Wait, Cecil made those?”

“Yeah! He’s a really good cook, isn’t he?”

“Incredible,” Nico agreed. He paused, looking off into space. He missed Will’s touch. “... I should thank him.”

“I can relay the message if you want,” Will volunteered. 

Nico couldn’t help but marvel at the gentleness in his voice. _I can’t believe anyone would ever speak to me this way._ “... No, I… I want you to stay. Please.”

Will smiled. Nico noticed his ears were pink. “Of course, darlin’.”

There was a silence. Nico’s thoughts drifted. He thought back to he and Bianca in the Lotus, sitting on her bed eating chocolate cake and laughing together, so happy. He remembered how Bianca had cradled him afterwards, smiling sweetly at him while he moaned and groaned his way through a horrific cake-induced stomachache. His self-control was not that good, it had never been that good, but it had never mattered, because Bianca had always been there to mop him up, until she wasn’t, and then… 

He hadn’t even realized he was crying until Will brushed the tears off of his cheeks. “... I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t worry about it, darlin’.” Will soothed. “May I… may I hug you?”

“... Sure,” Nico murmured.

Will pulled Nico into a hug. Nico buried his face in Will’s broad shoulder, enjoying the warmth he exuded. Nico felt bad about spilling himself out on Will like this, but he couldn’t help the emotions that were coursing through him. It all just hurt too much, there was a tremendous aching emptiness in his chest that had been excavated when Bianca died and no matter what he tried to fill it with it just remained, lingering and festering until it ran vile juices all over everything, pouring out of him into Will’s softness, his tenderness. He couldn’t stop crying. It made his heart twist.

He sucked in his breath, spittle and snot and tears running into Will’s sweater. “... I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing to worry about, darlin’.” Will stroked his hair. “... Want me to do the thing?”

“... Only if you’re up for it,” Nico moaned.

“I’m always up for it when it’s you,” Will replied. 

Will’s words made Nico warm inside. “... Thank you so much.” He closed his eyes, feeling Will there, so close it was like their souls were touching. When the relief came, it was like having a tanker truck lifted off of his soul. He relaxed heavily into Will’s arms, letting out an embarrassingly loud moan.

“... Bet _that_ felt good,” Will chuckled.

“... Shut up,” Nico grumbled. 

Will cradled Nico for a little bit longer. Both boys appreciated the contact, warm for Nico and cool for Will, mixing into a sweetly perfect temperature. Finally, Nico sighed. “... I… I should go thank Cecil for the cupcakes.”

“May I go with you?” Will asked, looking excited. 

Nico smiled. “Of course.” He leaned in and put a soft kiss to Will’s lips. 

Will gasped a little. “I… uh.” His ears turned a deep shade of crimson. “...Thank you so much.”

“... You’re welcome, dorko,” Nico laughed, pulling away from Will and standing up. “Let’s go.” Nico brushed the tears and snot off of his face and they walked over to the Hermes cabin. Will knocked on the door. 

Travis Stoll answered. “Hey, guys.”

“Trav. Is Cecil in here?”

“Yeah.” He turned around. “Hey Cece, get out here! Your friends wanna see you.”

Cecil came to the door a moment later. “Hey, Wi- Nico!” He grinned. “How’re you doing? You feeling okay?”

Nico couldn’t help but smile, something he’d never thought he’d be able to do on such an inauspicious date. “... I’ll live. Thanks for the cupcakes, man.”

“Of course, dude,” Cecil laughed. “I love to bake. It’s no problem for me.”

“Yeah, well…” Nico shrugged. “... I can’t cook to save my life or Will’s, so…”

“That’s why I’m here,” Cecil explained. “That’s my purpose in life. I make the food.”

“That you do,” Will cut in.

“Anyway… you two wanna come in? Connor got a giant thing of those peppermint things.”

“... Sure, I’ll go for it,” Nico chuckled. 

Nico spent the rest of the day eating cupcakes and questionably sourced peppermints, and it was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cecil's like a Jewish grandma in the way he shows affection via food. But he really can cook, so no one complains.  
> Also, I kind of want one of those cupcakes now.


	42. Non-shippy (some Solangelo)- So Hollow (So Full)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a study of Cecil's friendship with Will, told via two very contrasting situations. Because they're basically my favorite friendship that isn't quite canon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying something new. I think it turned out kind of interesting. Please tell me if I should try and do this more, I'd appreciate the feedback.

_ Crunch. Crack.  _

Two figures stumble through a forest darkened, unlit by the sun. One leans heavily on the other, he trembles, gasps, sobs. Tears flow and fall on dry brown leaves, his hands fumble, shake, his companion holds one of them in one of his own. “Cecil.”

His companion, that faithful friend, turns his head. “What?”

“... I… I… I can’t… I do-on’t wan’ to go back.” An uncommon complaint, he is normally so dedicated, but the tears streaming down his cheeks tell all Cecil needs to know. 

“It’s safe, Will,” he replies, tenderly, pulling his beloved friend down to sit in the soft dirt. 

Will comes easily, lying down, curling up. He is so tired, his bones ache, but the tears won’t stop and the luxury of a warm place to sleep is afforded only to those who can swallow their pain, stop the tears for long enough to stay strong and look good for  _ them.  _ Them, the little ones. The ones who shouldn’t even be there in the first place.  _ And they looked like little metal bugs in their armor and when they died it was like flowers were blooming across their bodies, crimson flowers like roses and those little red flowers that every suburban neighborhood winds up planting in the spring and it was so ugly I couldn’t stop vomiting when I finally came to grips with it…  _ “It’s not,” he cries. “It’s not.”

Cecil breathes, deeply and evenly. He is the least broken one, now. He needs to keep himself together. “It’s as safe as anywhere will ever be.”

Will looks up, his blue eyes running with tears, flaming with them, they run from him like rivers, horrid sobs break from him in waves. He looks so helpless, injured, weeping like this. Cecil wants to wrap him in blankets. “... Cecil, I… I… I ca-ca-can’t cry in-in fro-nt of… Kay, y-you kno-ow tha-at.”

“We’ll take you back to the Hermes cabin,” Cecil murmurs, trying to bring some comfort to someone shattered, broken. Cecil doesn’t even think it appropriate that he can look into his friend’s gentle face and see it solid. He always expects it to be cracked like glass, the outside reflecting the inside. “You’ll be safe and comfortable.”

“... I wa-anna… Cecil, I wan… I wanna… I wanna… be dead,” he manages, a small, desperate plea. “I wanna die.”

“I want you here,” Cecil replies, gently, soothingly, carefully bringing Will into his arms again. He is not a hugger, he has never been into other men, but the only right-feeling thing to do is hold him here against the pain, against the shame and misery. His arms are too sturdy for someone of only fifteen years of age. “I don’t want you dead. Please. Just let me take you home. We don’t have to go to the infirmary. We don’t have to return to the Apollo cabin or anything like that. I can do all the talking. But please, Will, let me take you home. It’s so cold out here.”

Will raises his head, he’s crying, his insides feel foul and the tears are supposed to be a release but they aren’t, they’re not a release and it just hurts, his soul is hollow, now, and he knows he can’t soothe it. It’s so empty.

So hollow.

  
  


_ Rustle. Sigh. _

Two figures sleep side-by-side in a bed. One’s head rests on the chest of the other. A third figure enters, softly, his footsteps make no sound on the carpeted floor. He watches for a few minutes, looking, watching,  _ waiting,  _ looking for any sign of pain or distress in the face of his dear companion. 

But none is found, everything is safe and okay. His dear friend William Solace’s face is peaceful,  _ he himself _ is at peace, sleeping warm and beloved in the arms of someone who loves him more than anything, more than life, more than chocolate cake or video games or stupid Pokemon/Greek Mythology crossover trading-card games. 

Cecil couldn’t be happier about it.

And so he turns, leaves the room, returns to the main room of an apartment that perpetually has way too many people in it. Kayla sleeps on the couch, her short hair fanning about her face on the pillow, she uses no blanket unless she is sleeping in someone else’s bed, which she does frequently. She is a child and she is needy sometimes. He returns to his bedroom, the one he shares with the same girl he’s been living with forever, the girl he would go to Hades and back for, although he doesn’t know if she’d even begin to do the same for him. 

He climbs into his little twin bed. His own bed. A bed he doesn’t have to share. What an eerie feeling. The sheets are cool on his skin, this place is safe, good, happy, it is a place of rebirth and tenderness and sweetness and life. It’s so beloved.

So full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, the figure Will was in bed with at the end was Nico. Just wanted to make that clear. Also, Cecil obviously is able to talk Will into coming back to the Hermes cabin with him.
> 
> Also, I might someday write another thing where the context of some of this is a little more evident. But if I do, fair warning, it will involve references to rape. Also things that could be construed as victim blaming.


	43. Non-Shippy (some Percabeth)-Screaming and Screaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg's had the same nightmare for so long she's lost track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Percy tries to kill himself again. Also, I did something similar here to what I did in the last drabble.

She’s had the nightmare so many times she’s lost count. 

It always starts peacefully, with her standing on the roof of a nondescript New Roman building watching the clouds. She’s always had a fondness for clouds, they were free, floating around on the winds, happy and safe. She likes to find shapes in them. There’s one that looks like the Empire State Building.

Someone emerges on the roof; she turns, focusing in on the newcomer. Percy Jackson walks slowly across the roof, his body stooped, his gaze focused on nothing, he looks so tired she wants to cry. She watches as he slowly shambles on, coming to a halt in the middle of the roof, staring at the sky for a moment. A tear runs down his cheek. 

She thinks of his mother, holding her pregnant belly as she talks gently, giving over a too-long dress that was only ever intended to be worn for a day yet wound up being her favorite article of clothing in the world. She wants to cry.

She watches as he looks down suddenly, she sees his teeth clench, suddenly breaking into a sprint, his breath catches violently in his throat and he throws himself violently into midair, the roof no more, howling as he tumbles into the abyss. She screams, rooted to the spot on the edge, watching his body tumble down, his arms and legs flailing, and when he lands, he seems to explode, red blood and pink flesh exploding out around what used to be his body. His eyes flash in agony for one second before going blank, glassy, his eyes fix on the sky and stay there forever. She screams and screams and screams.

Her screams jolt her awake, she gags on them, vomit trickles out of her mouth. She’s wrapped in a blanket on a sofa in an apartment, a blanket that’s now stained with her vomit. Tears run down her cheeks in rivers, she doesn’t know what to do. 

“... Meg?” Percy’s voice is soft, she turns her head. “Did you… did you throw up?”

She nods dazedly. He takes the soiled blanket and puts it in a garbage bag; “here, I’ll find you another” and drapes another blanket over her shoulders, he’s come to mean so much to her, every time he throws himself from that roof she dies a little inside. 

She wakes up late, the sun is high in the sky and Percy is gone, so is Annabeth. Meg rises slowly, she walks carefully around the apartment, looking around. There’s some old pizza in the fridge. Meg crams it into her mouth, her belly has felt like a bottomless pit for a few months now, she doesn’t know why she can’t fill herself, she eats and leaves. Emptiness in her stomach is not new. She will live. 

Something draws her to the roof, she takes the stairs up and pauses to watch the clouds, there’s one that looks like a fish and another that looks like the Empire State Building. The sun is warm on her, it brings thoughts of Apollo. Percy says Apollo is going to do obscene things to her as soon as she turns 18, she only has two years to go, she worries. She loves Apollo so much, but taking a god within yourself always leads to tragedy. She smiles at the sun, the warmth is good, nourishing. 

Footsteps echo behind her, she turns, it’s Percy Jackson. He’s almost stumbling across the roof, his back is stooped, he looks so tired. “Percy?”

He doesn’t respond. His legs shake. He stops in the middle of the roof, staring at the sky, tears fall down his cheeks.

“Percy? What are you… OH!” She shrieks as Percy breaks into a sprint, bolting down across the roof until the roof is no more and he tumbles, tumbles, Meg screams and screams. Her arms shoot out in front of her, reflex, the ivy that climbs the building responds to her, shooting out and wrapping him tight, so tight, Meg is on her belly and vines twist tightly around Percy, halting his fall, Meg reaches out so far she thinks  _ she’ll  _ tumble and grabs his hand, his hand is so limp. The plants push him back onto the roof, contorting, Meg sees for the first time that his whole body is heaving, horrible sobs break from him like waves. He kneels, sobbing, screaming, it’s like Meg’s not even there. Her small hands reach out and grab Percy, patting his back, holding his shoulders. “Percy! Percy!”

He looks at her, his teeth clenched, he’s howling like a wounded dog. His voice cracks, breaks violently, his Adam’s apple bobs and pulsates as his throat contracts from his tears, he’s in such agony. He screams and screams. “... Me-eg…! Meg!” 

Her breath hitches, tears sting at her eyes. She grabs him and pulls him close, clinging, her arms are thin and bony and not really as strong as they should be but she holds him as tightly as she can. He gasps, unexpecting, burying his face in her hair as she buries hers in his violently jerking chest. “... Percy, I’m so… I’m so sorry, I… I didn’t… I… I… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say.”  _ Apollo, please heal him, I beg of you,  _ help him,  _ I know you can do it, please.  _

_ Please.  _

It’s a while before she lets Percy go, she doesn’t know how long exactly but his eyes are so red by the time he’s finally finished crying that it must have been a really long time. She releases him slowly, cleaning the fog from her glasses as he sits back. “... Don’t tell Annabeth,” he murmurs, still sniffly. His nose runs so badly when he cries. 

Meg wants to refuse, but she can’t bring herself to deny him anything, not when he’s so fragile. “... Okay. I won’t. Not now. But maybe… maybe later. Percy, I… I’m scared.”

Percy stops, giving her one last hug before they go inside. “You’re too sweet.”

“Am not,” Meg rejects. “I just don’t want you to fucking die.”

Percy doesn’t respond. They go inside, silently walking back to Percy’s apartment. Percy goes immediately to bed, lying down, wrapping himself tightly in the blanket. “... I’m so tired.”

“... Go to sleep, then,” Meg says. She wants to lie down next to him, but she doesn’t. Annabeth would hate it if she found Meg in her and Percy’s bed. 

“... I’ll have nightmares,” Percy sniffles. 

“Is that why…”

“Partially,” Percy sighs. 

“What was the other part?” Meg asks curiously. 

“Let’s just say I have things going on that you don’t know about,” he replies. 

“... Okay,” Meg murmurs, patting his hand. “I was just trying to help.”

Percy nods, he looks up, his eyes soft. “Thank you.”

Meg nods. “It’s no problem. I owed you one anyway.”

They fall into silence, Percy closing his eyes, he’s calmer now, but Meg can tell he’s still in pain. She wants to help so badly but she doesn’t know how. Finally, Percy murmurs “Thank you so much.”

“Always welcome,” Meg replies.

They sit together for a long time as Percy slowly melts into sleep, finally, his breath falls slow and even, soft to hear. “... Goodnight. Perce.”

A few minutes later, Annabeth reappears. “Meg,” she greets. “What happened while I was out?” 

“Nothing, Annie,” Meg lies, cramming down another slice of pizza. “All’s good.”

She didn’t have the heart to tell Annabeth how very, very wrong things almost were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't write about it enough but I will support the Meg/Percy friendship until the end of time. They literally seemed to hit it off better than anyone else Meg talked to in that whole series save Apollo himself. And they're so similar in backstory and personality and I just want Meg to become some sort of honorary Percadaughter so bad


	44. Non-shippy- "Hermes Gave Me a HJ?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg finds something on the Internet that she thinks Percy needs to know about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, there's some NSFW stuff discussed here. It's not smutty, but there's sex references and dirty jokes. Just warning y'all. Also, it's SUPER meta.

“PERCE!” 

Percy jumped, tumbling out of his bed as Meg slammed through his bedroom door, kicking it open with a bang. “What the fuck? Are we under attack? What the hell’s going on?”

Meg leaned against the doorframe, convulsing with laughter. “This guy on the internet says you’re into old men.”

“What? Is that all?” Percy rubbed his eyes. “Look, Meggie, I really don’t care if some moron on AO3 says that--”

“--Are you into old men, Perce? Do you want that good ol’ grandpa dick? Is that your thing? Do you want some crusty, flaky old man jizz in your b-hole? Is that your thaaang?” Meg flopped on his side of the bed, taking his place. “You want that shriveled beef jerky? You wanna meet some grandpa’s Juice Crew? You want--”

“--MEG!” Percy shouted. Meg flinched, snapping her mouth shut. “You know I’m not into old men, you asshole. Seriously, who the fuck told you that?”

“I dunno. Someone wrote something where you let Hermes give you a handy because you liked how ‘mature’ he looked. Meaning he looked like a grandpa.” Meg shrugged. “All gray haired and shit.”

“Meggie…” Percy sighed, climbing up onto the bed. “Do you actually think I would let Hermes jack me off? Like, seriously, you’re smart. Do you seriously think I’d have sex with Hermes?”

“No, of course not,” Meg laughed. “That’s why it was funny.” 

Percy huffed. “I’m glad you were able to find some humor in someone’s fantasy of Hermes giving me a handjob. I just hope you realize that it never happened and never will.”

“Yeah, no man, I know you’re not gay.”

“And even if I was gay, I wouldn’t fuck a god,” Percy snorted. “Too much bullshit happens when you get into that.” He stared at her intently.

“Okay, why are you looking at me like that?” Meg asked. 

“I was in New York with Annabeth for two weeks. You were here in our apartment. Don’t think I don’t have suspicions after seeing Apollo visit you every week,” Percy accused. “You know I think he’ll put a baby in you the moment you turn eighteen.”

“I can handle it,” Meg dismissed. “Apollo’s not that bad when you get to know him. Besides, his time as a mortal kind of made him a better dad. I don’t think he’ll run from me if he gets me knocked up.”

Percy sighed. He still looked grumpy. “... All I’m gonna say on this front is that you’re always welcome in any home owned by my family-- this apartment, my mom’s apartment, the Montauk Beach house, any. If you need to… if you need to get away, you can go there. Gods forbid, if you need to leave a baby somewhere, my mom can raise kids too. I’ve spoken to her on it and she’s agreed to help if Apollo does something stupid.”

Meg’s eyes welled. “... I… thank you so much, I… I don’t even know how to… thank you so much.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. 

Percy held out his arms. “C’mere, Meggie. Get a hug.”

Meg snuggled in and Percy ruffled her hair. “... ‘M sorry,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by Percy’s chest. “... ‘M sorry. I donwanna be your problem.”

“You’re not,” Percy laughed. “You’re my friend. Friends do these types of things for each other.”

Meg let Percy hug her for a moment longer before pulling away. “Thanks, Perce.”

Percy smiled. “No problem.” Then he laughed and shook his head. “Ah, geez. Hermes gave me a handy, huh?”

“Yup.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this to help deal with reading basically this exact fanfic. It was a fic where Apollo and Hermes are competing to have the most sex with Percy. It was as bad as it sounds. Also, the next drabble will be similar to this one.
> 
> Also, comment if you found the reference.
> 
> ALSO ALSO: THIS IS NOT MEANT AS AN INSULT TO ANY FICS OF THIS TYPE. I seriously don't actually care what kind of fics you write. I just tease these types of fics because it's fun.


	45. Non-shippy (referenced Solangelo)-Which One Of You Motherfuckers Said I Had An Incest Fetish?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico read something on the Internet and BOY, does he have some grievances!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically the same warnings as the last drabble. NSFW language, but no smut.

“All right, which one of you motherf-which one of you told all of the Internet people that I had an _incest fetish?”_ a very miffed Nico di Angelo shouted as he exploded into the apartment.

“... Wasn’t me,” Kayla interjected meekly.

“No, sweetie, I know it wasn’t you.” He flopped down at the kitchenette table and looked over at Cecil, who was making cheeseburgers in a pan. “Mix me a drink, Markowitz.”

“Travis is the barkeep now, not me,” Cecil grumbled. “He’s the one who brought the booze into the apartment in the first place.”

Nico turned to Travis, who was stretched out languidly and catlike on the pullout couch with Connor passed out (drunk?) next to him. “Stoll, make me a drink.”

Travis smirked at Nico. “Maybe I will and maybe I won’t. Also, it wasn’t me that told everybody about the incest fetish, if you have one.”

“I don’t! That’s my point! Also, I didn’t think it was you because you of all people would know that you and Connor aren’t twins, and this- this mother-this guy didn’t know that.”

Travis paused and his eyes widened as he took in the ramifications of what he’d just heard. “Gods. Okay.” He rose up off the couch. “I’m gonna make the _both_ of us drinks.”

“Thanks,” Nico mumbled miserably, resting his head in his arms. Travis plunked a rum and coke in front of Nico and Nico downed it in three giant gulps. Travis downed his and stood across from Nico, casually leaning against the wall. “So… me and you and Connor?”

“Yup.”

“... I’m so sorry,” Travis giggled, shaking his head. “Want another drink?”

“Please. You know what, just pound me full of rum and coke until Will has to pry the glass from my cold, dead hands.”

“Uh…” 

“What?”

“... I’d refer from using the phrase ‘pound me’.”

Nico’s stomach fluttered with revulsion and he wailed. "I'm so sorry!"

Travis shook his head. “Naw, man, it’s fine. Chill down.”

Nico nodded. Travis plunked another rum and coke in front of him and he drank it down. “Ah. Actually, don’t give me any more of these. I don’t want to get that drunk on a Tuesday, of all times.”

Travis nodded. “Understood. Here, can I get you some water?”

Nico shook his head miserably. “... No. Just… is Will here?”

“Yeah. He’s in your bedroom. He needed…” Travis giggled. “He needed some time away from us.”

"That is understandable." With that, Nico left to go find Will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually read a fic like that once.
> 
> ALSO ALSO: THIS IS NOT MEANT AS AN INSULT TO ANY FICS OF THIS TYPE. I seriously don't actually care what kind of fics you write. I just tease these types of fics because it's fun.


	46. Some Percabeth- I May Be A Feral Child But I'm Not A Slut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two mini-drabbles about Percy, Meg and to a lesser degree Annabeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains one or two dirty jokes and a brief scene where Percy is shirtless.

Meg banged on an apartment door, checking a slip of paper in her hand. She held Peaches against her chest, swaddled in a baby blanket with apples on it. A backpack hung heavy on her back. It was New Year’s and anyone who was anyone was crashing in New Rome.  _ Apartment 2B. Seems right. I was told he’d be here.  _

The door swung open. Percy stood on the other side, his eyes half-lidded. He was wearing sweatpants and nothing else. “What?” 

Meg took notice of his toned pecs and biceps. “I… you told me I could…” She held Peaches a little tighter. “... You told me I could… stay here?”

Percy yawned. “Oh, yeah, of course. I’m sorry. Come on in.” He turned and beckoned her in. “Annabeth! Meg’s here!” 

Annabeth scanned Meg up and down. Meg was wearing the same ripped up camp shirt and shorts she’d been wearing when she’d left Camp Half-Blood three days prior. Annabeth noticed that she was holding  _ something _ swaddled in a baby blanket. “Dear gods, don’t tell me that…”

Meg laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s just a… one of those fruit spirits.” She held up Peaches to Annabeth. 

“Peaches,” he growled.

“... But it isn’t… yours?” Annabeth asked.

“It isn’t my baby, if that’s what you’re asking,” Meg replied. “I didn’t birth it. I may be a feral child but I’m not a slut. Where’s your bathroom?”

“First door on the right,” Percy sighed, pointing. “Want me to take…”

Meg released Peaches from the swaddle. Peaches flew out a nearby window. “Nah. He’s gonna go visit some friends.” She turned and walked into the bathroom, staring at her own face in the mirror. She didn’t look too different from when she was twelve, honestly, her face was still round, her glasses were still held together with tape. Her cheeks still had dirt and grime smudged around them. One of her eyes bore the mark of a mostly-healed bruise. 

She did her business, washed her hands and face and left. Her shirt now bore an impressive amount of water as well as dirt and rips. Percy and Annabeth were pulling out the couch into what looked like a bed. Percy had put on a shirt. “Oh, uh…”

“You wanted to sleep here, right?” Annabeth asked. 

“... Yeah,” Meg replied. “I just didn’t know it did that.”

“Why did you think I called it the 'pullout couch'?” Percy asked.

“Honestly?” Meg asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought it came from what you did with women on here.”

Annabeth snorted and turned her head, clamping her hand over her mouth in a laughing fit. “Oh, I like you.”

Percy blushed. “Stop ganging up on me!”

“Aww,” Meg cooed. “Does da widdle baby want his bottle?”

“Shut up,” Percy grumbled in response.

  
  
  


Meg banged on the door again, stumbling into it with all the force her small drunken body could handle. It was three in the morning, she didn’t know what she was doing, she had to pee really badly, sobs were choking out of her throat and she didn’t know why. Peaches clung to her back, hugging her.

Percy opened the door. “Holy-Meg! What the hell happened?”

“I… I dunno, I… I think I had a li’l… a li’l too much…”

“Too much to drink?” Percy asked, pulling her inside. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Meg flopped into the sofa bed. “I… I don’t…”

Percy sat next to her. “Hey, don’t cry. It’s okay. Just… tell me what’s the matter, okay?”

“... They said you were gonna… gonna mess me up if I… if I showed up at your door drunk.”

Percy cocked his head. “That’s all?”

“I… I dunno.”

Percy chuckled. “Well, I’m not gonna hurt you. I think they just said that because I myself don’t drink nor hang out with many heavy drinkers, so…”

“Religious reasons?” Meg guessed. 

“... What? No, not…” Percy laughed. “No, not  _ religious reasons. _ I just think alcohol is a recipe for disaster.” Percy gestured up and down over Meg. “Case in point.”

Meg gave Percy the finger and wiped the fog off of her lenses. “Um notta disaster!”

“You are a little bit,” Percy sighed. 

Meg sniffled. “Apollo wouldn’t do this to me.”

“Because he’d be drunker than you,” Percy replied. 

“I miss ‘im.”

Percy looked down. “You really loved him, didn’t you?”

Meg nodded. “Fucking sucked.”

“Getting attached to a god always does,” Percy murmured, his voice gentle. “That’s the thing about gods--they leave. Even if they really care about you.”

“He was the only one who did.” Meg went to wipe her nose on the hem of her shirt but refrained. 

“... Will you come get a hug?” Percy murmured, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Meg sat up, flopping limply against Percy. Percy took hold of her, patting her back. “You shouldn’t even be drinking at all at your age. You especially shouldn't… shouldn’t be this… this messed up.”

“Shuddup. Don’t tell me what to do,” Meg grumbled, leaning into Percy’s warm body. “... Thanks for the hug, though.”  _ It’s so warm, so safe, and it’s been so long… _

“You’re welcome,” Percy laughed. “I’m just concerned is all.”

“Concerned?” Meg slurred. “For li’l ol’ me?”

“Yeah, Meg. For you. The one who showed up literally sobbing drunk.”

Meg didn’t respond. Percy smelled sweet, like sea air, and she wanted to stay in his arms forever. “... Sorry.”

“... It’s fine. I’m only concerned, that’s all.” He ruffled her hair affectionately. “It’s all good, Megatron.”

Meg hiccuped with laughter. “Ah, fuck, don’t make me laugh. I’ll piss myself.”

Percy released her. “Don’t pee on my lap, please.”

“Why?” Meg slurred. “Is that Annabeth’s spot?”

Percy blushed deeply. “I… I…  _ no,  _ it’s not her… ugh. Look, if Annabeth and I want to… It’s none of your business!”

Meg laughed more. She took a breath, the chuckles were jostling her bladder too hard. “Ah, shut up. I’m gonna…” She got up. “I’m gonna… go use the bathroom.”

Poor Percy was still blushing. “You go do that, please.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I love this friendship.


	47. Solangelo (and mentions of Percabeth)-Will's Sick Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico can't find Will. It turns out that this is because Will is unwell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this a while ago, but it was never finished, so I gave it a short ending where Will recovers and posted it. It's Solangelo so it can't be that bad.

“Annabeth?”

“... What?” The daughter of Athena looked up from her work, annoyed. The annoyance melted a bit when she saw who was talking to her. “Oh… Nico. It’s just you. What do you need?”

Nico flopped down next to her on her bed. “Well… I haven’t seen Will all day, which means something’s wrong. I checked all the places he goes when he’s upset or needs privacy, but he wasn’t there. Do you know where he is?”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “... Did you check the infirmary?” 

Nico paused and looked down, scowling slightly. “... No, but in my defense, he doesn’t go there when he’s upset.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes for what felt like the twelve millionth time that day. “Well, let’s go check the infirmary, then. He might just be busy with studying, he is going to college in three months, after all.”

Nico nodded. “Normally, yes, but he didn’t even come to breakfast this morning, and he never misses meals unless he’s really depressed or if there’s a war that just finished and a million injured people in the infirmary.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s… troublesome. Let’s go check on him.” Annabeth stood up from her desk in Cabin 6 and staggered out into the sunlight. She squinted, looking around. “What about Cabin 7? Did you check there?”

Nico nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“Okay. Good.”

They walked silently and awkwardly to the infirmary. Nico and Annabeth had never been particularly fond of each other; they had never hated each other, but Nico hadn’t much liked Annabeth for her relationship with Percy. However, once Nico’s feelings for Percy had dissolved from lust to a dull indifference, he had put the past aside. It had never been his most major grudge anyway.

Annabeth pushed her way into the infirmary, with Nico close behind. “Will? Are you in here?” She looked around the clean, sterile room and saw a still figure curled up on the cot nearest the desk that was just to her left. “Will?”

The figure stirred and rolled over. “... Annabeth? Is there someone hurt?”

Annabeth thought he sounded extremely hoarse. “No, everyone’s okay, I think. Are you okay? You’ve been absent all day and you’ve missed breakfast. Nico and I are worried about you.”

Will sat up and put his head in his hands. “Aww, thank you. You two are the best,” he wheezed.

“Thanks. Are you okay?”

Will nodded. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“... You sound hoarse. Does your throat feel okay?” Annabeth asked.

“She’s right, Will. You sound terrible,” Nico interjected, sitting next to Will’s cot. 

“No, my throat’s fine. I keep telling you, I’m just ti-” Will broke into a terrible hacking cough and rolled over on his side, jolting as the coughs racked him. 

“Okay, you’re sick. You don’t cough like this unless you’re sick,” Annabeth muttered. She grabbed Will’s head out of the sheets it was buried in and put her hands on Will’s forehead and the back of his neck. Will’s eyes closed and his facial muscles relaxed; a look of relief spread across his face. “... What happened?” Annabeth asked. She wanted in on whatever Will was experiencing in that moment.

“Nothing, it’s just... Your hands are cool,” Will mumbled. 

“And it feels good?” Annabeth queried.

Will nodded. 

Annabeth was too distracted to reply. Will was burning up. “... Okay. The reason you like my cool hands is because you’re sick.”

“No, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

Annabeth huffed. She grabbed a thermometer from the med closet, quickly swabbed it down with rubbing alcohol and sat down on the cot Will was curled up on. “Open up.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Will mumbled, hoarsely and defiantly.

“Do it anyway. To paraphrase things you yourself have said, it doesn’t matter what you want at this point because your health is on the line.”

Will grumbled softly, then began coughing again. A sharp pain shot through his chest halfway through the intense fit and after he was finally finished, he relented and opened his mouth. 

Annabeth stuck the thermometer in and Will put it under his tongue. “Good boy,” she said.

Nico stroked Will’s cheek gently. “Hey, it’s gonna be fine. You probably just have a little fever or something. It’ll go away in a few days.” 

Will leaned into Nico’s cool hand for the few minutes before the thermometer beeped. Annabeth grabbed the device out of his mouth and held it up. “... Hades,” she mumbled.

“What? How hot is he?” Nico asked. “I mean, besides the obvious.”

“He’s 103.5 degrees... and quite attractive,” Annabeth replied.

Nico looked at Will’s face. “What do we do?”

“Just give him some nectar and wait. I’ll get him some cough syrup.” Annabeth started rummaging through the infirmary closet. “Ah, here it is. Okay.” She poured some liquid into a spoon. “Here, take this.”

“Isn’t the stuff that makes you all dopey?” Will croaked.

“... Yeah, I think so. But hey, at least you’ll be happy while you’re sick,” she mumbled. 

Will laughed, then coughed hard. “Okay, okay.” He took the medicine and cringed. “Ugh. I have new sympathy for all the others I’ve made take this shit. It tastes horrible.”

“Alright, princess,” Annabeth said sarcastically. “You want me to magic the taste away?”

“That’s the least Athena-ish thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Will mumbled. 

Annabeth didn’t respond. She filled a cup with nectar and gave it to him. Will drank it heavily and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was weak and tired and didn’t want to move or even stay awake. He wanted Nico to hold and cuddle him while he slept off the fever. Nico would be cool and soft and gentle and it would feel so good, so good… 

“Will?” Nico said gently. “Do you want to go back to the Apollo cabin and sleep?”

“... No. I don’t want to infect the… the siblings.”

 _The medicine must be kicking in. His speech is pretty slow._ “Oh… okay.”

“And… can you help me get to a private room? I don’t want to infect anyone,” Will slurred. 

Nico and Annabeth nodded. They pulled Will up and awkwardly half-carried him to a private room in the back of the infirmary. Will was a good deal taller than both of them, so it was a bit of an awkward procedure, but they were able to get him into the bed with some difficulty. “There. Is that okay?” Annabeth asked. 

Will nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You’re doing the right thing,” Annabeth said.

“I’m big and clumsy and weak and you two are small and fast and pretty and strong and… and…” Will’s eyes teared up. 

Nico brushed the tears out of Will’s eyes. “Don’t cry. I’ll always help you when you need it. You’re not big and clumsy, you’re just a little sick right now.” 

Will buried his face in the pillow and Nico stroked his hair. “... I’m sorry. I’m such a terrible person,” he hiccuped. 

“No you’re not,” Nico protested. “You’re ill and human. What are you even apologising for?”

“Tell them, Nico. Tell them I’m sorry.”

“Who is _them?”_

“My… my deaths. My dead patients. Tell them I’m sorry.” 

“Will,” Annabeth said gently. “It’s okay. I’m sure they’ve all forgiven you. I don’t know why they’d be mad at you for their deaths if you did your best for them. I mean, it makes no sense.”

Will sniffled. “... Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course I’m sure!” Annabeth scolded. “I wouldn’t be saying it if I wasn’t sure of it.”

Will nodded. “Yeah, ‘cuz you’re all smart and shit.” His voice cracked. 

“Yes, because I’m all smart and shit. I need to go now, I have work to do. Nico, will you be okay taking care of him?” Annabeth asked.

“Oh, of course. He’ll be asleep in a few more minutes anyway, I can tell.”

“Oh, yeah. Then he’ll practically be on autopilot,” Annabeth joked. 

Nico smiled. “Yeah.”

“Anyway, I need to go. I need to finish this before I meet Percy by the canoe lake at eleven and it’s ten-thirty now and I don’t read very fast, so I really need to get to work.”

“Do any of us?” Nico asked. “I thought poor reading skills were sort of part of the deal.”

“I mean, if you want to oversimplify it, yeah,” Annabeth said as she slipped out the door. “Bye.”

“Ciao, Annabeth!” Nico called after her as he turned back to Will. 

“Bye- ugh…” Will gagged on his words and broke into another ferocious fit of coughing. 

“Are you actually coughing that hard because you need to or do you just want pity for you being sick?” Nico asked.

“I’m not that good of a liar.” More coughing and a self-depreciating giggle. 

Nico rolled his eyes. “You’re right,” he replied. 

Will pouted and sniffled. “Sorry babe…”

Nico’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s okay. It may be a good thing that you can’t lie all that well. Honesty is good.”

Will nodded. “I agree.” He coughed hard and wheezed like his chest was being crushed. “I’m sorry.”

“Maybe it’s better if you don’t talk right now,” Nico reassured. Will nodded and closed his eyes, rolling onto his side. Nico put a hand on his forehead. He was still burning, the fever medicine hadn’t worked much. “I’m going to go get some nectar and an ice pack for your head, okay? I don’t want you to get any hotter, you could get delirious and I don’t want you to go through that.”

“Mm,” Will murmured. 

Nico left. He had a little time to think while he walked to the infirmary med freezer. How had Will gotten sick in the first place? Apollo kids never got sick. And yet there was Will Solace, sick in bed, burning up. It was ridiculous.

Nico grabbed the ice pack out of the freezer, wrapped it in a soft rag and returned to the room where Will was lying. Will had his eyes closed and his breathing was soft. His lips were curved in a smile; as Nico watched, he giggled softly. “Why are you laughing?” Nico asked.

“‘Cuz.” Will continued to giggle.

“‘Because why?” Nico asked again.

“Because Annabeth brought her laptop to the cabin counselor’s meeting last week and when I looked at the screen, it was a story where Luke Castellan was… was…” Will collapsed in a coughing fit, but at least he was giggling this time. 

“And what was our traitorous friend doing, dear annoyance of mine?” Nico asked as he rolled Will over and laid the rag-covered freezy pack on his forehead.

Will wheezed heavily and laughed. “He was fucking Percy Jackson in the ass!”

“I think you may already be delirious, Will. Annabeth is a lady. She would never do something that… _lowbrow,”_ Nico sniffed.

“‘M not delirious! It really happened! That’s why I started giggling! It was awesome!” Will hiccuped.

Nico paused. Will _had_ started giggling unexplainably at the counselor’s meeting last week and he _had_ been seated right next to.... oh, dear. Had his opinion of Annabeth been wrong all along? He’d have to pull her aside and ask her. That sounded like a hell of an awkward conversation. “... I’m not sure how to respond to that. I’ll have to talk to Annabeth about her… well, her extracurricular activities.” Nico paused and shook the itchy heat out of his hair before mumbling “I didn’t even know girls did things like that. I know Bianca would never do anything like that.”

“...What was she like?” Will croaked. His throat sounded terrible.

“Take a sip of nectar and I’ll tell you,” Nico replied.

Will did as he was told. “Now will you tell me?”

Something in Nico’s heart was on shaky ground. “Well… she was proper, you know? She didn’t do… she wasn’t the type to… she knew what her body was worth enough to… not show it to everyone who asked, you know? At the risk of sounding a bit sexist I’ll say that I’m finding that trait increasingly lacking in some of today’s women and girls. Have you seen what some of them wear, in public no less?” Nico remarked, scandalized. “Anyway, I digress. Bianca was modest and lovely. Her favorite color was olive green- she had a hat that was that color that she wore all the time. She liked dogs and her favorite food was chocolate cake-”

“-Is that why you like it so much?” Will rasped. 

Nico gently traced the outline of his skull ring and nodded. “Yeah.” Now it was his turn to become hoarse. “I never liked it when she was alive. Or I did, but not that much.”

Will put his hand on Nico’s, and Nico tensed momentarily before he remembered that _it’s Will, he’s never been anything but nice (and annoying)._ He relaxed and rubbed his thumb over Will’s. That little gesture gave him the strength to continue; he swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking again. “I’ve been scared of thunderstorms since I was a little kid- I mean, you know that already, but it-it doesn’t matter. I’ve been scared of thunderstorms forever and whenever it would storm at night I’d be really scared so she-she’d let me sleep in her bed…” Nico took a breath.

“Sounds like a real sweetheart,” Will whispered. “Too bad she was a Huntress, she would have made a lovely mom… why are you crying?”

“I’m not,” Nico mumbled, crying. “I just have an eyelash in my eye and it’s annoying, that’s all.” He turned away from Will, furiously scrubbing his eyes on his sleeve.

Will reached for Nico again, laying a hand on his back. “Hey, it’s okay. You want a hug? A hug might be ni-” A ferocious cough racked Will’s chest and he gasped for breath, his ribs burning. After the fit subsided, he turned back to a frightened Nico. “A hug might be nice. Do you have any tissues?”

Nico handed him one and he blew his nose and cleared his throat. After Will put his tissue in the garbage can, Nico lay down next to him and buried his face in his side. Every fiber of Will’s being wanted to roll over and cuddle him, but he knew he shouldn’t disturb the pack on his forehead as it was really the only thing keeping his fever from rising, so he had to settle with curling an arm around Nico. 

Nico could hear Will’s breath rattling in his congested chest, and even though it was obviously sickened, it was still soothing. The pain dissipated as he lay there and his chest felt lighter than it had in a while. He forgot what Will did to him.

They lay there for a few more minutes. Will shivered. “C-can we take the cold pack off now? I’m really cold all of a sudden… it doesn’t feel good anymore, I was hot before...”

Nico rubbed Will’s arms. “Let’s give it a few more minutes, okay? You’ve got a high fever and I really don’t want it to get worse.”

Will groaned. “But I’m so cold…”

Nico sighed. “I know. You’re cold. You’re sick. It’s unpleasant. But I need you to stay strong. I don’t want you to get any sicker than you are.” 

Will nodded and swallowed painfully. He closed his eyes. “... Yeah.”

There was another pause. Nico looked up. “Will?”

No response. Will had passed out, his eyes were closed, the fever sweat was making his hair stick to his forehead. Nico rolled his eyes, kissed his cheek and left the infirmary.

  
  


“So… what’s happening with Will?” Percy asked quizzically. Percy had kind of just flopped down next to him after swordfighting practice had ended. Percy had been trying to “improve their relationship” recently, which had led to some interesting incidents. “Annabeth told me he was like, really sick.”

“He’s not, like, dying, if that’s what you’re asking,” Nico responded. “He’s got the flu or something. He’ll be fine in a few days.”

Percy nodded. “Okay. But he’s okay?”

“He’s fine. We doped him up on codeine cough syrup and he’s been unconscious since lunch.” Nico lay down on his back and closed his eyes.

“Well, you can’t feel bad if you’re unconscious,” Percy reasoned. 

“I guess,” Nico shrugged. “I feel bad for him, though.”

“Me too,” Percy agreed. “But I’m glad he’ll be okay.”

Nico nodded. He sighed. “... I’m gonna go check on him.”

“You do that. He’ll probably appreciate you being there,” Percy nodded. 

Nico pushed himself up. “Bye.” He walked across the camp green, the cool night breeze ruffling his hair. He saw Will’s brother Austin trying to start the campfire. He almost considered telling him to hold off, he knew that Will would feel awful if he missed it, but he refrained. The others still needed their fun. It would be selfish to halt it because of one missing member. Well, two. If Will didn’t go to campfire, he didn’t care enough to do it either. 

When he got there, Annabeth was feeding Will nectar from a jug using some sort of improvised nectar bong. She was wearing a surgical mask. “How’s he doing?”

Annabeth pulled the thing out of his mouth. “... Eh. Could be better. At least he’s not gone enough to start calling me Mommy.”

“... Did that ever happen?” Nico asked dubiously. 

“Once. He got an infection after Manhattan and was laid up for like a week. And that was with ambrosia and nectar and everything,” Annabeth snorted. “It was horrible.”

Nico winced. “Oh, gods.” He walked over to Will and scanned his face. He looked woozy, but conscious. “Will? You okay?”

“I’m alive,” Will managed. “I’ll live.”

Nico pushed the hair off of his cheek. “I’m glad about that at least.”

“I’m gonna go get him more cough medicine,” Annabeth sighed. “Once I do that, he should be okay while I go to campfire. Are you good to…”

“... Stay with him? Yeah,” Nico replied. “Also, wash your hands before you…”

“Of course,” Annabeth responded. “I don’t wanna spread his germs.”

Annabeth returned in a few seconds with the syrup. She tipped it into Will’s mouth and he drank it down, closing his eyes. “There we go. He’ll be nice and delirious for you, Nico.”

Nico chuckled awkwardly. “... Yeah.”

“Anyway, I gotta go. Percy gets concerned if I’m not at campfire. I’ll see you later.” She turned and left.

“... Bye,” Nico responded. He turned back to Will. Will’s eyes were closed, his golden hair made a halo on the pillow. “Are you… do you wanna sleep, or…”

“Mm.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Mm.” Will rolled onto his side. 

Nico pet his hair gently. “Okay. I won’t say anything.” He stroked Will’s hair and face as he drifted off. He was still much too warm, but perhaps a little bit cooler than before. He figured that with Annabeth’s aggressive treatment Will would get better in a few days, no more than a week. 

  
  


For the next few days, Will did nothing but sleep. 

Nico was with him almost every minute of every day, watching him sleep, helping Annabeth give medicine and nectar and ambrosia and being there when his fever dreams or body needs woke him up. Nico was learning to tell when Will was about to wake up from sleep, learning how little tosses and turns morphed into Will sitting bolt upright, yelping hoarsely in the space between waking and sleep before realizing where he was and settling down again, apologizing to Nico or Annabeth or Chiron or whoever else was in the room before drifting back to sleep. It made Nico’s heart ache whenever he would apologize for his nightmares, after all, he couldn’t control them. 

Nico walked into the infirmary five days after Will had initially fallen sick. He wasn’t expecting much. Will had been so sick. He was shocked to discover Will sitting at his desk, scribbling in his notebook. “Will? What the hell are you doing out of bed?”

“... I felt better?” Will admitted sheepishly. 

“What have… what have you even been doing?” Nico asked, thoroughly baffled.

“I got up, got some clean clothes, took a shower and now I’m here.” He coughed slightly. 

Nico grabbed Will and put his hand on his forehead. “... Okay. Your fever broke. Dammit, Will, you scared the daylights out of me.”

“... There’s a pun in there somewhere, but I’m too tired to figure out what it is.” Will put his head on his desk.

“Then go back to bed. You’re spending three more days in the infirmary, completely unqualified yet concerned special friend’s orders.”

“But I…” Will sighed, then coughed again. “... I suppose I deserve this.”

“You do,” Nico nodded. “Go to bed.” 

“Fine.” Will rose and went back to the private room, flopping heavily into bed. He took his notebook and pencil with him. 

“You… writing something?” Nico asked curiously. 

“No, I…” He blushed. “No, I’m not. Just… doodling.”

“I didn’t know you did art,” Nico replied, impressed.

“I don’t.” Will opened the ratty spiral book to reveal a page covered wholly in random spirals and shapes. “I told you, I was just doodling.”

Nico laughed. “Oh. Well, let me know if you accidentally produce something good.”

“Will do,” Will laughed, lapsing into a coughing fit. “Oh, gods, my damn chest hurts.”

“From coughing?” 

“Yeah,” Will sighed. “Sucks, but what can you do?”

“Rest,” Nico nagged. 

Will snorted. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I just… I don’t… I’m not used to _not doing things,_ you know?”

“No, I know. I get it. But you need to be careful with yourself, okay? I don’t want to see you get sick or hurt because you’re working too hard.” Nico leaned heavily on the doorframe. 

Will’s ears turned pink. “... Thanks, I… I’m flattered.”

“You’re welcome,” Nico responded. “I’m gonna go get you some breakfast now, is that okay?”

“Of course, thank you.” Will held his stomach. “I’m starving.”

Nico chuckled. “Yeah, I… I thought so. You haven’t really been eating much.”

“I’ve spent five days asleep, haven’t I?” Will groaned.

“That you have. Now, I’m gonna go get you some food. You need it.” Nico chuckled, thinking of the irony behind that statement.

“Please,” Will begged. 

Nico returned in a moment with a tray of bacon and cream cheese bagels. “Here. For you.”

“Thank you so much,” Will sighed. He grabbed the tray, eating like his stomach was bottomless. It was as if he couldn’t stuff enough in his mouth to satisfy himself. 

“... Do you want seconds?” Nico asked. “Because I think I can get you…”

“No, no,” Will laughed. “I’m fine.”

Nico sat down next to him, smiling softly as he studied his face. “Okay. Just don’t be afraid to ask for more if you need it, okay?”

“I won’t,” Will replied. He pulled his notebook back into his lap. “Are you gonna… take the tray?”

“What is in that notebook that you want to get back to so badly?” Nico shot back. 

“... Personal stuff!” Will retorted, blushing. “It’s not any of your business.”

“It’s a journal, isn’t it?” Nico asked. 

Will was silent for a while. “... Yeah,” he admitted, his voice small.

“See? That’s all you had to say,” Nico sighed. “Now I’ll take the tray and leave you alone. It’s all fine.”

 _“Thank_ you!” Will responded. “I love you, goodbye!”

Nico blushed. “Love you too, man. Glad you’re feeling better.”

“... I’m glad to be feeling better too,” Will grumbled as Nico left the room, opening his journal up to the next blank page and settling into a long three days of writing angsty teenage poetry. Fun times for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I enjoy torturing Will so much. It's him and Percy that for some reason I always wind up beating on. Also Nico and Mitchell to a much lesser degree.


	48. Implied Megpollo- Golden Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I whump a fucking deity. This is all that this is. Because I can. That's right: I make Apollo fucking suffer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of Zeus fucking torturing Apollo. Don't read if that shit's gonna give you agita. Also mentions of Meg's skin just sort of... generating flowers. Yeah. It's weird.

“... I thought you said we were gonna fight a drakon,” Meg groaned, poking at the soft dirt of the forest with a stick. 

“I thought we were gonna fight one too,” Percy sighed, glancing around the forest, his sword drawn. “But… there doesn’t seem to be one here. I’d say he left, but I don’t like assuming my enemies aren’t around anymore.”

“That’s not stupid,” Meg sighed, raking her hand through her hair. 

Percy sniffed the air. “... Thanks.”

“Can you actually tell where it is by the smell?” Meg asked incredulously. 

“Fuck no! It just looks good, Megatron. It doesn’t do shit,” Percy laughed. He took a few more steps before his foot splatted down in some kind of puddle. “Ugh. I stepped in something.”

Meg looked down. Some golden liquid was splattered over the toe of his shoe. It was glowing slightly. “Well, it doesn’t look dangerous. I mean, don’t lick it, but I don’t think it’ll hurt you.”

“Yeah, but… but what is it?” Percy asked. 

“Probably just monster piss,” Meg replied. “I mean, it doesn’t look like human piss.”

“Do monsters piss?”

“I dunno. I mean, what else could it be?” Meg shrugged. 

“Glitter glue. Paint. Ichor, maybe,” Percy replied. A tingle traveled up from his tailbone at the thought of a bleeding god. It excited him somehow. “You wanna check the bushes?”

Meg shrugged. “Sure, why not? I could use some excitement in my life.” She got down on her knees and crawled through the verdant green of the bushes, the sticks poking against her body as she willed them to let her through. The puddle was only growing bigger, the glowing fluid staining the knees of her sweats as she crawled. 

Then she saw it. 

A hand emerged from under a bush. Meg grabbed it and yanked. She didn’t know what she was doing, only that _no, of course there’s not the severed hand of a god just casually here. This doesn’t happen._ She pushed violently through the bushes another meter before she saw the figure the hand belonged to. Dark curls spread around a freckled face, a tee-shirted body striped with gashes and burns the shape of lightning bolts lay still on the ground. Meg yelped involuntarily. _“Apollo!”_

Meg could only barely hear Percy swearing in the distance. She rolled into a kneeling position, the bushes making way for her. She shook him violently. “Apollo, wake up! Wake up! Wake the fuck up!”

He groaned, opening vivid blue eyes and looking hazily at Meg. He reached weakly for her and she took his hand. “I’mma get you out of here. You’re gonna be okay, okay?” She grabbed him under his arms and pulled hard, dragging him with all her might through the brush. “Percy!”

“What? What’s he done this time? I… Holy fuck!” Percy started, staring down into the bushes at Meg, at Apollo. Percy groaned and grabbed his arm with one hand, hauling him out onto the path. Meg stumbled out after him, grabbing him with her tiny hands, clutching at him, pulling him into her arms as she fell on her behind. Percy nudged Apollo with his foot, more ichor streaming from his body onto Percy’s shoe. “So… how much of this stuff can he lose before bad shit happens?”

“I… I don’t know!” Meg shouted, tears stinging at her eyes. 

“Hey, don’t cry, don’t cry,” Percy soothed gently. “We’ll fix this. Here, I have some ambrosia.” Percy pulled a baggie of ambrosia squares from his pocket and gave it to Meg. 

Meg sniffled. She pulled the square out and pushed it against his lips. “... Wake up, please, eat this, you need to…”

Apollo’s mouth moved slightly, his tongue licking at the square. He nibbled at it, swallowing slightly. Meg turned to Percy. “... Go get… go get Will Solace. Tell him his dad is in trouble.”

Percy nodded, turned and ran back towards camp. Meg waited, holding Apollo as gently as she could. She felt Apollo’s ichor flowing into her shirt and wondered if it stained as badly as mortal blood. “... Apollo?” she whispered. “Can you hear me?”

“... Ugh.” Apollo opened his eyes again, his gaze unfocused. “... Meg.” His voice broke. A tear streaked down his burned cheek. “... Dear… Meg.”

“... Good. I’m glad you can hear me,” Meg replied. “... What… what did this to you?”

Apollo’s lip trembled. Meg noticed his lips were paler than normal. A few more tears tracked down his temples, thin little streaks of golden light. Meg wanted to squeeze him, but she didn’t want to aggravate the injuries. So she held him, rocking him carefully as a cool rain began to fall over them. Apollo twitched as the first raindrop fell onto his burned skin, gasping as he became aware of the changing weather, and in that moment, Meg knew what had happened, she knew who had hurt him, she knew how he’d been hurt. “... It’s gonna be okay. I won’t let him hurt you. You’re safe with me, okay?”

Apollo nuzzled into her shoulder, leaning heavily against her. “... Love you,” he murmured. 

“Love you too, man,” Meg replied. 

The rain intensified, but Meg wasn’t cold. She watched as the water mixed with the gold of the ichor, running it into the dirt. Meg almost expected flowers to explode from the earth where it fell. She wondered how much he could lose before dying or fading or whatever happened to gods. Where the hell was Percy? Where the hell was Will?

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Apollo flinched, crying out, balling his fists in Meg’s shirt and crying for his sister. Meg took a breath. She’d never really spoken with Artemis, never had any reason to pray to her, but maybe she’d hear if she and Apollo both said something. _Um… Dear Artemis, dear_ Lady _Artemis, I… okay, there’s no good way to say it but your brother is in trouble. I think your father did something terrible. I don’t know how to help. We’re gonna fix him up but I don’t know what to do for him emotionally. Please, help. Amen._

She took a breath, looking down into Apollo’s face. His eyes were glazed, a vague look of fear hidden in the weakness and pain. Tears ran down, the rainwater washing away the soft glow on his cheeks, on his face, as they fell. “... Hey. It’s okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“... Love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“Love you too, man,” Meg replied for the second time. Thunder rumbled again, closer, Meg curled Apollo in her arms a little tighter, shielding him from the sky. Shielding the sun from his own element. “Love you too.”

  
  
  


It was a few more minutes before Percy returned with Will, the latter breaking into a sprint as soon as he saw Apollo broken in Meg’s arms. “Holy fuck, what happened?”

“I have no idea. We found him bleeding in those bushes over there. I think Zeus did something. I don’t know for sure,” Meg groaned.

Will knelt next to Meg and Apollo. “Put him down. Let me see the wounds.”

Meg did as she was told. Apollo groaned, reaching for Meg’s hand. Meg took it, holding his hand to her chest. “Shh. It’s okay.”

“Holy shit,” Will gasped. “I haven’t seen anything this bad since Manhattan. If Zeus did this… I can’t even… I can’t even imagine. I mean, I don’t have kids, but… fuck, man.” He rolled Apollo onto a stretcher of sorts he had. “Okay. We need to get him back to the infirmary. He needs actual medical attention.”

Meg nodded. She stood up, golden flowers blooming out of the ichor in her clothes, fed by the rain and by Meg’s powers. Little buttercups and dandelions. “Let’s go.”

Percy and Will hauled Apollo between them and dragged him back to camp. Meg barely registered the walk back to the infirmary. She wrapped her arms around herself, the water streaming over her felt colder than it had before. She couldn’t even feel warm after they’d returned to camp, soaked to the bone with helpless tears trickling down her face. Her legs were trembling.

She barely registered seeing Will lay Apollo in an infirmary bed. She barely registered it when Will began to stitch shut the wounds. She barely registered watching Will rub aloe over the burns before wrapping them in gauze, bandaging his limbs, his chest, his face. She barely registered when Percy wrapped a towel around her shoulders, rubbing them, warming her up. “... Will he be okay?” she whispered.

“I mean, he’s immortal, so yeah,” Will replied diffidently. “I mean, he could have healed himself hours ago. I don’t know why he isn’t better.”

Meg nodded. “... I don’t know either.” She moved closer to him, resting her head on his chest. She could smell some kind of burning smell under the scent of rainwater and aloe. “But… thank you for healing him anyway.”

“It’s cool,” Will sighed. “No big.” He walked over to the minifridge and drank some Gatorade. 

Meg closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat. She wondered how long it would take for him to get better. After all, he’d lost so much ichor. She had to have a liter or two stained in her clothes alone.

  
  
  


Time flowed like a liquid as she sat there, cuddled close to Apollo. She kept her eyes closed. She couldn’t look at the injuries on his body. They broke her heart too much. Poor Apollo. Even when she had been Nero’s captive, she’d known she’d eventually die and be free. Apollo would never have that release. He was stuck in this loop for eternity. He’d never be free. He’d never be better. He’d always live with this, the lightning that burned across his skin and made him scream, ache, sob, take refuge in Meg’s arms because Artemis had her own deal and he _didn’t have anyone else…_

Meg didn’t realize she was sobbing out loud until Will tapped her shoulder and offered her a tissue. “I-I-I-I-I’m s-so… sorry,” she gasped. 

“It’s no problem,” Will soothed. “I get it. It’s upsetting to see someone this badly hurt, even if they are immortal. I’m proud of you for staying and comforting him when he needed it.”

“... Thanks,” Meg whispered, wiping her eyes. “... Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Will soothed. He crossed the infirmary. “You want a Gatorade?”

“... Sure,” Meg whispered.

Will brought her a bottle of red liquid. “We only have the red kind. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s fine.” Meg drank from the bottle. 

“Those are some nice flowers in your clothes,” Will commented. 

“They give me the itchies,” Meg responded. Most of the flowers had withered and fell off her clothes and body on the walk home, but a couple of dandelions still held on to her clothes, her chest, her legs. _Tenacious little bastards._

“... Sorry about that. You want some Benadryl or something?” Will asked.

“No. I’m good,” Meg replied, yanking one from her clothes and tossing it into a nearby trash can. She looked around, not seeing Percy. She figured he’d just left. After all, why would he stay at the bedside of someone he barely liked? 

“Okay,” Will replied. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Meg nodded and closed her eyes again. 

  
  


Apollo woke up shortly after, half-sobbing as he woke. Meg held him close. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re safe. You’re safe.”

“Meg?” he asked. “Meg? Where am I? What’s happening?”

“You’re in the infirmary. At Camp Half-Blood. We found you in the forest and brought you back here. You were in really bad shape.” Meg’s voice broke. “You were crying and saying you loved me and when it started… started raining and thundering you started crying harder.”

Apollo’s eyes watered. He didn’t say anything. Tears ran down his temples and he buried his face in her chest. 

Meg stroked her fingers through his hair, cooing gently at how soft it was. Meg was almost mesmerized by soft hair, she loved stroking it and feeling it run through her fingers. A warmth surged through her chest, something hot, protective, she wanted to care for him. Keep him safe. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“... Can I stay here?” Apollo murmured. “Only until Zeus calms down?”

“Sure,” Will broke in. He had been sitting at his desk scribbling in a notebook while Meg and Apollo had been having their moment. “Stay as long as you need. Just don’t get us attacked by another big stupid robot.”

“... I won’t,” Apollo murmured into Meg’s chest. 

“Good. Then sure. The sick cot’s open for you if you need it,” Will replied. “Also… I never thought I’d be saying this to a deity, but I’m sorry.”

“... It isn’t your fault,” Apollo replied flatly. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I still feel bad,” Will replied. “I mean, really.”

“... You’re soft,” Apollo murmured. “It hurts me to know because soft people get hurt the most.”

“Look, _Dad,”_ Will replied, almost sarcastically. “I can deal with myself. Or Nico can deal with me. One of the two.”

“... Good. I don’t want to see you come to harm.” Apollo raised his head, looking over at Will. 

Will closed his tattered notebook. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“... I’m sorry,” Apollo sighed. “That isn’t right.”

Will’s ears turned pink. It was cutely endearing. “... Thanks.”

There was a pause. “... Will you teach me the piano while you’re here? Or continue to?” Meg asked.

“Of course, dear Meg,” Apollo replied, leaning back into Meg, listening to her heartbeat, soft and rhythmic and musical. “Anything for you.”

Meg blushed. “Thanks.”

Apollo laughed. “Of course.”

Meg stroked his hair some more, tendering each little curl between her fingers. “It’s nice to hear you laugh after everything. I was really…” Meg’s voice broke. “You really scared me.”

“... I’m sorry,” Apollo murmured. “I… I was so out of it, I… I sort of just collapsed into the forest because… because it was… it was close to you. And it reminded me… it was the sort of place that Artemis would really like. And I knew one of you would find me eventually.”

“Either me or her,” Meg murmured.

“Yeah.”

“That’s kind of smart,” Will replied. “Well, we found you, so it’s good. What the hell even happened? Did Zeus just freak and obliterate you?”

Apollo shrugged stiffly. Meg could tell that he wanted to cry. “... Basically.”

“... I’m sorry,” Will murmured. “I am.”

“Again, my dear son, it’s not your fault,” Apollo sighed. 

Meg held him a little more tightly. Tears stung in his eyes, little pricks of light appearing in the corners of his eyes, rimming his lids in golden light. One broke free, falling into the whiteness of the infirmary pillow, its little glow invisible against the bright, pure color. “... I’m sorry,” Meg whispered. 

Apollo buried his face in her chest once more. Meg could feel his tears pooling on her skin. “... Don’t be,” he whispered, trying to disguise his tears. “Don’t be.”

Meg had an idea. “Will, will you step out for a moment? I’d like to have a moment with Apollo. In private.”

Will nodded. “Okay. I’ll give you a few minutes.” He stood up and left the room.

Meg stroked Apollo’s hair. “... Do the tears help?”

Apollo shrugged. “... I don’t know,” he whimpered. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Meg whispered simply. She closed her eyes, stroking his hair, his curls like silk under her fingers. She vowed to hold him until he felt better, whenever that was. She listened to his breath, the little hics and jerks as he sobbed, slowly evening out over a matter of she didn’t know how long. 

Eventually, his breath evened and he moved from her arms, breaking the thin spell that wrapped them. “... Thank you, dear Meg. I don’t know how to repay you for this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Meg sighed. “You’ve done enough.”

Apollo looked up, meeting Meg’s eyes. Meg suddenly noticed how gold his eyes were, they were almost fiery. Hadn't they been blue earlier? Meg didn't know. “... Thank you so much.”

Meg gave his hair one last soft pat. “You’re welcome. Don’t worry about it.”

Apollo sighed and sat up. “... I love you, okay, dear Meg? I do. You’re… you’re everything to me.”

“Spare me,” Meg sighed. “Spare me your tender words. I don’t need them.”

“... Okay,” Apollo whispered. “... I will.”

There was a pause. Meg pulled one last dandelion out of her skin. It felt like the sort of thing that shouldn’t be painless, but it was. She wondered if they were even really flowers, or if they were something like her skin and hair, something she could trim or yank as need be. 

“... That’s a pretty flower,” Apollo murmured, taking note of the dandelion in her fingers.

“It’s a weed, but sure,” Meg sighed. “And it bloomed out of my skin where your ichor touched it.”

“... I didn’t know your body did that,” Apollo said, awestruck. He touched her arm. “... Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s a little itchy but it doesn’t hurt.” Meg scratched her arm where the dandelion had bloomed. “It’s fine. It doesn’t even hurt to yank it out.”

“I’m glad about that, at least,” Apollo murmured. “... Gods, that’s poetic. My ichor touches you and your skin bursts into flowers.”

“My clothes, too. It’s just that all the flowers fell out of them before now,” Meg replied. “And I’m kind of glad about that. They were giving me hives.”

“... Oh. Is your skin still irritated?” 

“Only a little.” Meg pulled up her shirt, revealing her skin, red and blistered. 

Apollo reached out and touched it gently. He whispered something and Meg’s skin healed. She shivered, supposing the healing magic was giving her tingles. “There,” he replied confidently. “That should help.”

“... Thanks,” Meg replied. “... Gods, I’m still not used to you being all powerful and goddy and shit.”

Apollo chuckled. “I hope it’s not discouraging to you.”

Meg smiled. “Naw. You’re still my idiot deity.”

“... Couldn’t be happier about that,” Apollo replied. 

Meg blushed again. “... Thanks.”

There was a pause. Will reentered. “Am I okay to come back?”

“Yeah, come on in,” Meg replied. “Also, Apollo, are you staying in your cabin tonight? Or are you in the Big House?” 

“He’s in the infirmary tonight,” Will answered firmly. “I don’t care that he’s the god of medicine, he needs a few days of rest.”

Apollo opened his mouth to respond.

“... Your fucking son’s orders.”

Apollo closed his mouth.

“Anyway, I’ll bring him dinner when the bell rings in ten. It’ll be fine. He won’t be too uncomfortable,” Will shrugged.

“... That’s good.” Meg felt a sudden urge to ask to stay in the infirmary that night. She knew the chance of her actually succeeding in that was almost zero if she herself wasn’t injured. She briefly considered stabbing herself, but that would probably lead to some lengthy psychological evaluations, so she decided against it. She took a deep breath. “Apollo, will you be okay in the infirmary by yourself tonight?”

“I’ll be fine,” Apollo replied, sounding almost meek. “Don’t worry about me.”

Meg nodded. “... Okay. I’ll take your word for it.” She dipped in and they gave each other a final hug. “I’ve gotta go. Percy forgets to eat if no one reminds him.”

“He doesn’t seem like the type of guy who does that,” Will fretted.

“His eating habits are broken, really. He won’t eat all day and then he’ll put away an entire large pizza at one in the morning. He’s a goblin. Anyway, I gotta go,” Meg laughed. “I’ll be back after dinner, okay, Apollo?”

“... Okay,” Apollo whispered. “... Thank you.”

“No problem. See you both later.” With that, Meg turned to leave, content that Apollo was safe, and secure in the knowledge that Percy, at the moment, needed more help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will only calls Apollo "Dad" if he's grumpy with him. Never any other time.  
> Also, dandelions are flowers. You can fight me on this.  
> Also also, if you liked this drabble, you should read this. Hell, if you hated this drabble, you should read this. Just read this. https://archiveofourown.org/works/14912804/chapters/34542173


	49. Percabeth, implied Megpollo-Meg Does Things She Immediately Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo gets a messed-up-drunk Meg to hang out in the Sun Chariot with him during New Year's. Percy isn't happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the New Year's incident that was referenced in "Good On Me."

It was New Year’s, Meg was drunk and she couldn’t sleep.

It was too hot in the apartment--or was it too cold? She was sweating and shivering at the same time. Her pullout-couch bed in Percy and Annabeth’s apartment felt like a swamp, soaked in her sweat, sweat that smelled alcoholic. She hiccuped. She had to use the toilet again. 

She went to the bathroom and came back. She couldn’t bring herself to lie back down, it was too warm, too muggy. She wandered out to the balcony, leaning on the wall, closing her eyes. It was a nice night, not too hot. The wind was light and cool. Far below, a couple was yelling at each other. It seemed to be a universe away. 

“You seem inebriated,” someone said. 

It took her a moment to realize that it came from right in front of her. “... Imma li’l drunk,” Meg replied. She opened her eyes. A tall tanned man with freckles and dark curly hair was standing before her. “... Apollo?”

“It’s me, dear Meg,” Apollo responded. “You’re looking beautiful as ever.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Meg grumbled. “Don’t sweetalk me.”

“I mean it. That halter top suits you,” Apollo nodded. Meg was wearing a pink and yellow striped halter top and jean shorts. She hadn’t bothered to change after the party. Apollo leaned in and put a warm hand over her forehead. Instantly, Meg felt her thoughts clear, her stomach settle. “There. That should help you out.”

She opened her eyes. “What was that?”

“Some healing magic. I can’t lower your blood-alcohol content, but I can help with some of the bad side effects,” Apollo replied. 

“... Thanks,” Meg replied. “... Jeez, I… I’m not used to you being… being powerful. I mean… every time I see you, I still see… I just see… see Lester, you know? The friend who was always by my side, through everything.” Meg stumble-crashed into Apollo, hugging him, holding on to him. “... My buddy Lester.”

Apollo patted her back. “You really are messed up drunk.”

There was a pause as Meg held Apollo, not letting go. Eventually, Apollo sighed. “You want to come hang out? I’ve got nectar that’ll help fix you up and we can ride around in the sun chariot. No one will see us.”

Meg had a vague feeling that something about that would be stupid, but she couldn’t place what, so she said “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Apollo flashed a winning smile. “Let’s go, then. Or do you need to get anything first?”

“... I’m okay,” Meg yawned. “Let’s go.”

Apollo took her hand and pulled her over the balcony rail, climbing down the side of the building and leading her down to a nearby parking lot, abandoned in the middle of the night. The only car parked there was a shiny, or rather glowy, red convertible. “... Is this it?”

“This is it,” Apollo replied happily. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“... I guess so,” Meg shrugged. “... I never was much of a car person.”

Apollo nodded. “I never was either, but this thing is gorgeous.” He caressed the hood of the car. “Wanna get in?”

Meg flopped into the backseat, hanging her feet over the door. “Smells nice in here at least.” 

“I know, right?” Apollo replied gleefully. He hopped into the driver’s seat. “Although I’m not leaving until all parts of you are safely in the car.”

Meg rolled over, curling up in the fetal position. She felt a dip in her stomach as the car lifted into the sky. “... So… where are we going?” 

“West,” Apollo replied. “It’s daytime in Japan. But we’ll be back in California in not too long. The sun shines on half the world at once, you know, and it’s only a few hours to dawn.”

Meg sat up, looking over the side of the chariot. New Rome was only a blip miles below. It made her stomach turn circles. “... That’s good.” Suddenly, she remembered something. “Oh, gods, Percy’s gonna kill me.”

“Why?” Apollo asked. “What did you do?”

“... I’m drunk. I’m really drunk. Percy’s already mad at me for being drunk. Percy hates drunks. And here I am, running off with you. When he doesn’t want me anywhere near you.”

“And what agency does he have over you?” Apollo asked.

Meg crawled into the front seat, her heart skipping several beats as she did so. It was frightening to be so insecure so far above the earth, but she needed to be close to him. “... He’s my best friend. I mean, he and his mother gave me everything I could have ever wanted. He’s been nothing but nice to me. I love him so much.”

“Of course,” Apollo replied gently. “I just don’t want him to make you feel like you can’t see me.”

“... Yeah,” Meg murmured. She closed her eyes, a shot of nausea blasting through her. 

“... Would it help if I turn the car into something with a closed top?” Apollo asked gently, seemingly picking up on Meg’s plight. “This thing shapeshifts, you know.”

“... It’d be nice if you could do something with a bathroom,” Meg groaned. 

Apollo snapped his fingers and the car shifted into something akin to a charter bus. “Done.”

Meg opened her eyes, looked around and sighed. “... Thanks.”

“... Do you want some nectar?” Apollo asked. He pulled a jug out from under the seat. 

Meg groaned. She honestly didn’t think that she could keep it down, but she took it anyway, taking a small sip. Somehow, it sat peacefully in her stomach. She drank more and her stomach began to settle. “... Thank you.”

Apollo ruffled her hair. “Always welcome.”

Meg lay down in the seat behind Apollo, glad to not have to crawl around in the exposed convertible anymore. Her stomach grumbled with nerves. She almost didn’t want to return to Percy’s apartment. She didn’t want to face his wrath. 

“Hey,” Apollo murmured softly, sitting next to Meg. “Don’t be scared of Percy. He cares about you is all.”

“He thinks you’re gonna get me pregnant,” Meg blurted. “Also, aren’t you supposed to be driving?”

“Oh, the chariot’s on autopilot. Anyway, I’m not gonna get you pregnant. Not now. I mean, unless you want it.”

“I don’t,” Meg replied, setting her head in Apollo’s lap. “I… I’m among the segment of the population that shouldn’t reproduce.”

Apollo didn’t say anything, only stroked his fingers through her hair. Meg suddenly felt very self-conscious. She hoped her hair was soft enough for Apollo’s taste, not too greasy or tangled. She didn’t want to be gross in his eyes.

“... You have pretty hair,” Apollo murmured. “It’s a shame it’s not brushed.”

Meg’s stomach dropped. “... I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Apollo murmured, gently combing out the tangles with his fingers, smoothing and flattening the soft black locks. “It’s not a problem.”

“... Thanks,” Meg murmured. Apollo’s thigh was soft. It made Meg want to sleep. 

“I forget sometimes how easily you mortals tire,” Apollo murmured. “It’s almost adorable.”

“... Thanks?” Meg murmured, rolling onto her back and looking up into Apollo’s face. 

His eyes were gentle with endearment. “You’re welcome.”

Meg closed her eyes. Apollo ran fingers over her face, stroking her forehead like he was blessing her. They fell into silence and stillness, Meg’s thoughts drifting. She thought of Percy, sleeping soundly at home, curled up in Annabeth’s arms, happy as a clam. Unaware she was missing. She wondered how he would react when he woke up and found her missing. She imagined his face changing from half-sleep to panic as he realized she was gone. She imagined him yelling for Annabeth, Annabeth trying to comfort him as he hollered. She imagined him running to Praetors Frank and Hazel, begging them to do something, search the city, search the camp. 

It made her heart hurt. 

She wasn’t aware she was crying until Apollo brushed tears from her cheeks with a quiet “What’s wrong?”

Meg sniffled. “... I feel bad.”

“For what?”

“For leaving Percy,” Meg sighed. “I mean, I don’t want to panic him.”

“You won’t,” Apollo murmured. “I think he’ll be okay. I think he’ll realize you’re with me.”

“... I don’t know,” Meg sniffled. “I don’t know.” She sat up, pulling away from him, tears running down her face. 

“Here,” Apollo murmured. “Let me wipe your tears, okay? It’ll feel good.”

Meg leaned into his arms. “... Sorry.”

He held her close, wiping her face with a soft cloth. “Don’t cry, okay? Percy’ll be fine. He will be. And you’ll return with the sun, right?”

“... I think I have to,” Meg sniffled. “I don’t think I have a choice.”

“Okay,” Apollo whispered. “... I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… have taken you away.”

Meg wiped her eyes. “Not your fault. Don’t worry.”

“... Okay,” Apollo murmured. “I won’t.”

There was a pause. Meg nuzzled Apollo’s chest. “... Thanks. For cuddling me. I… I needed it.”

“Always welcome,” Apollo replied, giving her one last squeeze. “... While you’re here, you wanna try driving the chariot?”

Meg started. Her emotions whipped around and a smile took over her face. “Of course.”

“Great!” Apollo grinned. Meg climbed into the driver’s seat. “How do I do this?”

“Tilt the wheel to control altitude. Turn it to make it run on the x-axis. Don’t do a 180. I’ll keep the speed even, autopilot can handle that.”

“Got it.” Meg took the wheel, making the chariot bob up and down like a dolphin. “Yeah, it’s probably better that you keep the autopilot handling the speed. When Percy let me drive his car the first time, I got up to eighty miles an hour before crashing into the median divider. It was bad.”

“Was anyone hurt?” 

“Not really. Just a few scratches and bruises,” Meg replied, looking out the window. “... Is that New York?”

“... Looks like,” Apollo replied, looking down. “It’s dawn over Camp Half-Blood now. So about three hours until…”

“... Yeah,” Meg sighed. “... I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

“Okay. Well, you’re doing a really good job driving,” Apollo replied. “Not like I’d ever imagine you would do it badly.”

Meg blushed. “Thanks.” She bobbed the chariot up and down, giggling. “Look, we’re a dolphin.”

“We’re nauseous,” Apollo groaned. “We’re gonna cause a climate incident.”

“Aw, come on,” Meg laughed. “Don’t be such a worrywart. I’m not gonna do anything stupid.”

Apollo looked at her. “... I’m trying not to worry. But it’s hard when you’re bouncing this thing like a basketball.”

“Am not,” Meg complained, still giggling, still bouncing the chariot. 

“Are too,” Apollo grumbled. 

Meg entered the chariot into a dive. “Rollercoaster!”

“Meg, no!” Apollo yelped, grabbing the wheel and yanking it back to altitude. “There’s a whole procedure that needs to be done before we can land the chariot. Otherwise it’ll burn up the ground below.”

“... I’m sorry,” Meg replied meekly. “I didn’t mean to. Here, you can drive now.”

Apollo nodded. “Okay.” They switched seats, Meg sitting in the passenger seat. “... I’m sorry if I upset you, but Zeus’ll beat the shit out of me if I cause another disaster.”

Meg’s heart sank. “... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… to almost get you hurt.”

“It’s fine, Meg. You didn’t know,” Apollo soothed. “It’s okay. Nothing bad happened.”

Meg nodded. “Good.”

  
  
  


A few hours passed. “... There’s New Rome!” Meg yelped, pointing down to the ground below.

Apollo looked out the window. “So it is. Here, I’ll show you the landing procedure.”

Meg grinned. She’d had an idea. “Don’t bother. I have an idea. Here, turn it back into a convertible for a second.”

Apollo did as he was told. “What are you…”

Meg looked down at the Garden of Bacchus far below, all the brightly colored flowers. All the plants. “Don’t worry about it,” she laughed before leaning out of the chariot, leaning out so far she tumbled into the thin air, bright and free. Her mind felt dizzy and swollen. She barely registered Apollo screaming for her, reaching for her. The air twirled around her body, running over her like so much frigid silk. She saw the little threads of her jean shorts whipping free around her legs. She couldn’t stop laughing.

The plants caught her, vines wrapping around her, leaves cradling her body, flowers exploding from her skin. She shot to her feet, laughing hard. Relief and adrenaline shot through her veins. “Damn! I’m the most powerful Demeter-kid alive, doing that shit! Fucking Head-Counselor me!” Meg stumbled on a few steps, laughing hard. 

“Meg!”

Meg barely registered her name. “ _ God  _ me! Make me a deity! Fuck! I’m the fucking best!” She spun in circles, the flowers blooming wildly around her. 

“MEG!” Someone grabbed Meg’s arm. Meg whirled. It was Miranda Gardiner. “Dammit, Meg! Don’t you know they’re looking for you?”

“... They are?” Meg’s heart sank. 

“Yes! Since early this morning!” Miranda sighed. “What happened? You just fell out of the sky!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Meg replied.

“... Fine,” Miranda replied. “... Oh, gods, I’m so glad you’re okay.” She grabbed Meg in a hug. “We were all so scared for you.”

Meg sank into her arms. Miranda smelled nice. “... I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, but we need to go show you to the Praetors. Tell them you’re okay.”

Meg nodded. She was too tired to resist. Miranda put an arm around her waist and led her out of the gardens, walking her through the city streets. Meg barely registered the walk to the praetorium. Her stomach was twisting too badly. Percy was going to kill her. 

Meg could hear Percy shouting before she even arrived at the tent. “... She’s been missing since last night. She could be  _ dead  _ by now, Frank!  _ Dead!” _

“Percy, we’ve got soldiers canvassing the whole city. If she’s still here, we’ll find her. I promise.” Frank’s gentle, sturdy voice was unmistakable. 

Meg’s knees shook. She could already feel Percy’s rage bearing down on her. She felt a sudden urge to empty her bladder. She said a brief prayer as Miranda led her into the tent.

Percy was standing with his back to her. Annabeth had an arm around him. Frank was standing in front of Percy. “But what if she’s not here? What then?” Percy’s voice broke. “Fuck, I need a ride to Olympus. I need to talk with Apollo. The fucker kidnapped her.”

“Percy,” Annabeth murmured. “Percy, Apollo wouldn’t hurt her.”

“Yes he will! He’s going to  _ take _ her, he’s going to  _ rape  _ her, he’s going to  _ impregnate  _ her and he’s going to  _ fucking dump  _ her. Leave her for dead!” Percy sobbed. 

“I say we let her speak for herself,” Frank said, laying eyes on Meg. “Meg? You have anything to say?”

Percy whirled. Annabeth jumped back. “Meg!” He grabbed her. 

Meg flinched hard, praying her bladder wouldn’t fail. She closed her eyes, her heart pounding. She didn’t want to see Percy’s face purple and contorted in rage. “I’m so sorry, Percy, I…!” Her voice cracked. She gasped. “I’m so sorry!” Tears slipped out from under her closed lids.

She felt Percy’s grip soften. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. “Oh, gods, Meg.” 

Meg opened her eyes. Percy was holding her. She looked up, slowly, hesitantly, her heart pounding. Percy’s eyes were closed. His lip trembled. “... I’m sorry,” she squeaked. 

“... What did Apollo do to you?” Percy asked. “Don’t pretend I don’t know you were with him.”

“... Nothing,” Meg replied. “We hung out and he let me drive the sun chariot. That was all.”

Percy nodded. “You better be telling the truth, you hear? You better!” His voice crescendoed into a shout and he let go of Meg. 

Meg flinched back. “... I am! You can ask him if you don’t believe me!” 

Annabeth stood between Percy and Meg. “Percy, you’re scaring her. Let’s just take her home, if it does turn out that Apollo did any of the things you said we’ll deal with it later. Okay? Meg, does that sound good?”

Meg nodded speechlessly. 

“Good. Then it’s sorted. Let’s go home. Frank, thank you so much for everything you did,” Annabeth replied. 

“You’re welcome,” Frank replied, his lips curling into a smile. “I’m glad we’ve found her.”

“Me too,” Annabeth replied. She shepherded Percy and a trembling Meg out of the tent. Percy had parked just inside city limits. He hopped into the driver’s seat. Annabeth was riding shotgun. Meg was in the back. The ride was silent except for Meg’s quiet sobs. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts. 

When they got home, Meg’s voice broke the silence. “... I’m sorry.”

Percy turned to face her. “... Don’t be. You were victimized here.”

“No!” Meg blurted, tears pouring down her cheeks. “No! No! Do you have any… do you even know what Apollo’s done for me?”

“... I suppose I don’t,” Percy replied. 

“... Apollo saved my life,” Meg sobbed. “He saved me.”

“How? From who?” Percy asked incredulously. 

“... From Nero,” Meg sobbed, the words feeling swollen in her mouth. “Nero killed my father, he kidnapped me and you know what? Eventually he was gonna kill me too. And if he didn’t do it himself, he was gonna get me killed through some scheme. He made me one of his child soldiers and he was gonna get me killed. And then Apollo showed up. And I ran away with him. And he saved me. And you, Percy Jackson,” Meg growled, stabbing a finger at Percy, “are gonna go and say that Apollo  _ raped  _ me! How the fuck could you?” 

Percy was silent for a very long time. 

“... Fuck it,” Meg gurgle-sobbed. “You don’t know and you don’t care.” She turned and grabbed the handle to try and get out of the car, but the door was locked, so instead she leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes, tears running down her cheeks. 

“... I’m sorry,” Percy whispered. “I’m so so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Annabeth murmured. 

“... May I give you a hug?” Percy whispered. “Please?”

Meg gave in. She crawled into the front seat, sitting in Percy’s lap. Percy grabbed her arms and pulled her in close, cradling her against his chest. He cupped her head against him, stroking her hair, holding her tight. Meg sobbed into his shirt, trying to catch her breath, but finding herself repeatedly unable. He smelled like the sea, sweet. 

Annabeth reached out and held Meg’s hand. Meg held her hand tightly. “... You did the right thing,” Annabeth murmured. “By running away with Apollo. You did the right thing.”

Meg held her hand against her chest. She was trembling badly. Annabeth unbuckled her seat belt, leaning over the center console to wrap her arms around Meg and Percy. Meg leaned in, resting her head against Annabeth’s chest, burying her face between Annabeth and Percy. Annabeth smelled of lemons. Meg suddenly understood why Percy got mildly aroused by the smell of lemony things. The reminder of Percy’s awkwardness lifted Meg’s spirits slightly. 

“Let’s get you inside,” Percy whispered. “You’re tired and shivering. Let’s get you to bed.”

Meg nodded. 

Percy picked her up, cradling her in his arms as he got out of the car. Annabeth released them and got out on her own side. Percy carried her up to the apartment and sat down on her bed, wrapping her in her blanket, cocooning her and rocking her back and forth. “... I’m sorry, Meg. I really am.”

“... Not your fault,” Meg whispered. “... I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“It’s okay,” Percy murmured. “It’s okay.”

Meg relaxed into the warmth of the blanket. The shivers slowly eased, her tense muscles relaxed. She became intensely aware of how tired she was. “... Thanks, Percy. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” Percy whispered, rocking her gently. “You’re always welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meg deserves all the cuddles.  
> Also, I feel like I make Meg too scared of Percy. Percy's never been anything but good to Meg, he never will be anything but good to Meg, but Meg's old childhood issues get in the way. Percy understands because he has the exact same issues. This is why they're such good friends.


	50. Non-shippy- Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis doesn't really take note of Zeus's grief. But she sure takes note of Thalia's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was requested to write a drabble with the Huntresses in it by a lovely person who left a comment on one of my other fics. This person basically said that they were writing a book and they wanted to write just like me, and since I'm a sucker for flattery, I went ahead and wrote this. The idea was banging around in my head anyway, so here it is. It takes place between TBM and TTT.  
> Also, mentions of Zeus torturing Apollo.

Artemis doesn’t think much when she first hears Zeus screaming and throwing things.

After all, it’s not like Zeus is  _ chill.  _ Artemis remembers with a shudder what he did to Apollo only a few months before. It makes her stomach hurt to think of it. 

She tries to put it out of her mind. After all, today is a good day. It’s only been a few weeks since her huntress, Hunter, was returned to her by the same gracious Apollo that Zeus had spent six months torturing and abusing for no real reason. And this is the day that they finally have cake to celebrate it. 

Artemis leaves Olympus with a shrug. Whatever Zeus is torn up about now, it’s probably not important. She is in the main camp in seconds, a fortress somewhere in Wyoming. With the mortal rumor going around that Wyoming doesn’t exist, it seemed to her to be the best place to settle. 

The girls gather around her in seconds, giggling, greeting. Their care for her makes her warm inside. She goes with them to where Hunter is, in the main banquet hall. “Hunter. Are you well?”

“I’m well, my lady.” Hunter looks healthy, she’s clearly been fed well since rescue. 

“I assume my brother didn’t try anything too stupid? How is he, by the way?”

“No, he didn’t try anything. He’s… well, he’s not exactly  _ godly,  _ but he is in one piece, my lady.”

Artemis breathes a small sigh of relief. “... Thank the gods. And how are things here? Where’s Thalia?”

“I was about to mention that, my lady,” Hunter replies, her face turning to worry. “She got a letter this morning about something, she read it and then she just stormed off. And the look on her face before she left was… I mean, she just looked devastated. I… I think she needs help.”

“... I didn’t know anything about that,” Artemis says, her head spinning. “... It sounds like she does need help.”

Hunter nodded. “Please help her. She’s in her… her quarters, they’re…”

“-I know where her quarters are,” Artemis replies. She turns and runs, runs through the gaggle of her girls who were more concerned than anything, she only barely sees them, they just look like a silver blur. She’s at Thalia’s door in seconds. It has a poster of a hand holding up a grenade on it. 

She knocks. “Thalia?”

No answer.

“Thalia? Are you in here?” Worry builds in Artemis’s throat. 

“... Go away,” comes the voice, tear-choked. 

“It’s me. Lady Artemis. Let me in,” she commands. 

There’s no response. 

Artemis tries the door. It opens effortlessly. She hadn’t even bothered to lock it. Thalia lies in her bed, her face in the pillow. There’s a framed photo in her hand. “Sister,” Artemis says, her voice almost a coo.

“... Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” Thalia hiccups. “Don’t fuckin’ call me that. Not now.”

Artemis sits on her bed next to her, rubbing her back through her thin tee shirt. She can feel her shoulders heaving. “What happened?” 

“... Jason’s  _ dead!” _ She’s sobbing horribly, so horribly, something Artemis hasn’t seen since Zeus’s torture of Apollo. 

“... Your brother,” Artemis whispers. “... Jason.”

Thalia nods. 

Artemis pats her lap. Thalia puts her head in it. Artemis runs her fingers through her short shaggy hair. “... I’m sorry. I…” Artemis shakes her head. She thinks back to the few times she’s seen Apollo seriously hurt, trembling and sick. She can’t imagine watching him fade. It would hurt too much. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shut up,” Thalia sobs. “Shut up.”

And she does. Artemis doesn’t want to say any more. There’s no words in existence to comfort her. Artemis lies down, reaches out, wraps her arms around her, pulls her close. Thalia curls up, sobbing hard, pressing her face into Artemis’s chest. Artemis can feel her whole body heave as she sobs. Artemis hums softly, deep in her chest, vibrations coursing through her frame into Thalia’s, something that always worked on Apollo whenever he was hurt. Thalia barely seems to hear it. She’s trembling badly, her chest heaving. Artemis fears her ribs will bruise, crack, break. Sobs course through her, they seem to dominate her being. She tries to think of the last time she’s seen someone cry like this. She realizes it’s been a few hundred years at least. 

She continues to hum. Eventually, Thalia raises her head. “... Do you know the song Twenty-One Guns?”

“... Maybe?” Artemis responds. Apollo sings a lot. She’s heard him sing millions of songs.

“It’s the one by Green Day.”

“Still not familiar. I’d say I wouldn’t know it if a man sang it, but Apollo sings a lot, and he plays a lot of recorded music as well, so…” Artemis shrugs.

Thalia nods. She hums a few bars. Her voice is not pretty. It’s rough, shaky and her throat sounds dry. Artemis can only imagine what Apollo would say on the subject. But she can recognize the song. She’s heard it blasting from Thalia’s bedroom hundreds of times. 

Artemis takes a breath. She hums the chorus softly, odd verses, whatever she remembers. She doesn’t remember the whole song. She remembers very little. But she can feel Thalia relaxing, melting against her, her breath becoming more even. She doesn’t stop until Thalia is finally calm, her electric-blue eyes staring dully into the distance, focused on nothing. Artemis strokes her cheek, tendering fingers over her salt-chapped skin. “... Would you like some cake?” Artemis whispers. “There’s cake in the banquet room.”

“... For Hunter, I know,” Thalia whispers. 

“I mean, cake helps,” Artemis murmurs. “Cake helps when you’re sad.”

Thalia shakes her head. “... I don’t know if I can face anyone right now.”

Artemis doesn’t make her. “... Okay,” she whispers simply, pulling away. “Do you want me to get you some cake?”

“... Only if you want to,” Thalia murmurs. “I don’t want to burden you, my lady.”

“You’re not,” Artemis reassures. 

“... Then yeah, I would,” she murmurs. 

Artemis nods and leaves, returning to the banquet hall. Girls are strewn around in the hall, chairs are everywhere. There’s a small brunette girl curled up on the floor. Artemis can tell she’s not in any trouble, just ate too much cake. 

She cuts a slice of chocolate cheesecake for herself and one for Thalia, then returns to Thalia’s chambers. Thalia barely acknowledges she’s there until she sits down on the bed. “... Thank you, my lady.”

Artemis nods. “It’s no problem.” 

Thalia sits up. She takes the plate and begins to eat. She takes maybe three bites before putting the plate down on the bed. “... I can’t… I’m sorry.”

“... No, I’m sorry,” Artemis murmurs. “I’m sorry.” She moves the plate to the nightstand. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Thalia flops down in the bed. “No, my lady.”

“... Okay,” Artemis murmurs. “... Let me know if there’s anything I can do in the future.”

Thalia nods. She closes her eyes. “... My… everything hurts.”

“... I’m sorry, my sister.”

Thalia nods. She doesn’t seem to have the energy inside of her to respond. 

Artemis strokes her hair gently. “... Do you want me to stay here?”

Thalia’s ruby-red eyes fill once more with tears. She nods. 

Artemis takes her in her arms once more. “... I’m sorry, sister, daughter. I’m sorry.”

“... Don’t tell the other girls,” she sniffles. “Don’t. Please. They… they won’t understand. They won’t. They’ll… they’ll just say good, a man is dead. Glad it wasn’t a lady. And I… I can’t deal with that.”

“I won’t,” Artemis whispers. “I won’t. I won’t until you’re ready.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Thalia whispers. “Thank you so much. I… I… I seriously owe you one.” 

“Don’t worry about it, my sister,” Artemis replies, her voice painfully tender. “Don’t worry. Don’t cry over it.”

Thalia holds her in return. Artemis takes note of her smell of ozone. “... Thank you so much.”

There’s a long pause. The two ageless beings hold each other in peace. Finally, Artemis raises her head. “... You will be sad for a long time,” she murmurs.

“... Yes,” Thalia whispers. “Yes. Do you think it will ever get better?”

“... Eventually,” Artemis whispers. “Eventually, it will hurt less, true.”

“I mean… it hurts so bad because… I thought he was dead, then I realized he was alive, and now he’s dead,  _ really  _ dead and I… I can’t… I guess I can’t process it.” A soft sob breaks from her lips. “I can’t.”

“... That is understandable,” Artemis whispers. “... I hope that someday it will become easier for you to process.”

Thalia sniffles. “... I hope so too.”

“I hope so too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was pretty painful for me to write. I mean, I'm a big sister myself. I can't fuckin imagine what it would be like if my brother was murdered. 
> 
> The only reason I'm comfortable being that sappy re: him is because I know he doesn't read my fics. We don't exactly have a sappy type of relationship.


	51. Some Solangelo- Not In Juvie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick never wrote any of the reunions between the kids kidnapped by Nero and their friends. That is a travesty that I am attempting to rectify here in this drabble.

Will cracked Sherman Yang’s leg back into place. “Be more careful next time. One giant robot isn’t worth your limbs.” They were in a small room off the infirmary that Will had set up as an exam room. Apollo had just slain the giant statue that had been terrorizing the camp. Will’s hands hurt like hell from the cold; falling into a lake in the middle of January had its disadvantages. He was trying to ignore it.

“Shut the fuck up,” Sherman growled. “And tell your little butt buddy that next time he starts fucking with me I’m gonna kick his balls in the balls.”

“Mhm. Once the brace is on you should be able to walk okay.” Will strapped the brace onto Sherman’s leg. He could feel Sherman scowling at him the whole time. Sherman stood up as soon as the brace was fully on and teetered across the infirmary. Will watched him. 

The door burst open. “Will,” Nico panted. “You gotta see this.”

“What is it?” Will asked warily, placing his hands on the radiator to warm them. 

“You know how Cecil went missing and you all thought he was in juvie?”

“Yeah. He’s dead, isn’t he?” Will asked, already feeling tears well at his eyes.

“Nope!” Nico chuckled, shoving a ragged, dirty brunette male through the door. 

Will sprang up and ran to catch Cecil before he hit the ground. He pulled him up by his shoulders and steadied him before grabbing him in a hug. “Cecil! Oh, gods! I’m sorry, man, we all thought you were…”

“Arrested?” Cecil pulled away and fixed Will with a cocky grin. “Nah. Cops can’t catch the Cece-inator. I guess a grove of trees and a crazy undead dude can, though.”

Will shook his head and eased a shaky Cecil to a nearby chair. “Don’t worry about anything now, dude. Just sit down.”

“Thanks, man.”

Will shook his head. “... I’m sorry, dude. I tried to tell them you wouldn’t just run away, Lou and I tried to tell them…”

Cecil shook his head. “Don’t worry. It wasn’t your fault. Don’t get sad about it.”

Will sat next to him. “... I’ll try not to.”

Sherman looked at them. “May I go now, or should I stay here and continue to watch this shit show?”

“Just go, dude. But be careful on that…” He saw Sherman enter the main infirmary, lay eyes on Miranda Gardiner (who was lying in one of the beds trying to get her strength back and crying softly), cry her name and leap on top of her into her bed. “... leg.”

“Yeah, I don’t see you getting far with that guy. At least he has his girlfriend and brother back. That should help his mood a little,” Cecil inserted.

Will nodded. He grabbed a plastic bottle of nectar from the fridge. “Here. You should drink this. Get your strength back.”

Cecil obliged exhaustedly. He chugged the bottle and lay his head back. “Yeah, that’s the shit.”

Will chuckled. “Glad you think so.” He paused. “Will you be okay by yourself for a moment? I gotta go check on the others in the infirmary.”

Cecil nodded. “I think so. I mean, I’m not gonna keel over and die.”

“And I’m so fucking glad about that,” Will laughed. He pushed into the main infirmary. Sherman was lying on top of Miranda, she was holding him. Ellis was pouting in a corner while eating soup out of the can. Lou held Kayla in her lap. Austin was curled up in the fetal position in the cot next to Kayla.

“Everyone okay out here?” Will asked. 

Lou nodded. “Yeah. No one’s really hurt. Miranda and Ellis are just… resting, I guess.”

Will nodded. “That’s good. By the way, Lou…”

“What?”

“... we were right.”

“‘Bout what?”

“Cecil wasn’t in juvie.”

Lou put Kayla down and sprang up. Kayla fixed her with a miffed expression before turning to blow her nose into a tissue. “He’s here?”

“Yeah. A little weak and dirty but otherwise none the worse for wear.”

“My gods. Only that boy…” Lou trailed off. “Where is he?”

“In the examination room,” Will replied. 

Lou turned and ran for the exam room. Will watched as she and Cecil grabbed each other in a bearhug, crying out softly as they rocked back and forth. Will turned to Kayla. “You alright?”

“I’b fide,” Kayla sniffled. “Austid’s passed out.”

“I can see that,” Will replied. “Uh… there’s some cold medicine in the closet that may help you. You should take some. Will you make sure Austin gets some when he wakes up?”

Kayla nodded. “Yeah, I cad do that.”

Will ruffled her hair and hugged her gently. “Good. You should rest too. I can see that you’re tired.”

Kayla nested her head in Will’s chest, smiling. “... Mm.”

They separated after another moment. “... Go to bed,” Will murmured, helping Kayla into the cot. 

Kayla’s eyes fell shut as soon as her head hit the pillow. Will kissed the top of her head and left for the exam room. He arrived just in time to see Cecil take a direct punch to the gut. “... And  _ that’s  _ for making us all think you were in juvie!”

“Lou,” Will started, moving to stand protectively by Cecil’s side, “don’t hit him. He didn’t mean to do it.”

“Shut up. He can take it,” Lou huffed. “Right, Cecil?”

“... I’d appreciate it if you didn’t hit me,” Cecil replied meekly. 

Lou Ellen sighed and gave him another small hug. “... I’m sorry. You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine,” Cecil replied. “I’m okay.”

“And we’re all so fucking glad about that.” Lou leaned in and put a kiss on his cheek.

Cecil blushed. “... Uh. Thanks.”

“No problem, man,” Will replied, patting his back. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Later that night, Will was curled up alone next to the radiator in the Apollo cabin, savoring the warmth on his skin. He wasn’t cold anymore, fortunately, he’d warmed up since his and Nico’s unfortunate dip in the canoe lake. Cecil had gone back to the Hermes cabin, back to his brother and his sisters and his bed. Will thought that that was the best thing for him anyway. He figured a shower and a good night’s sleep would basically cure him. As for Austin and Kayla, he figured Apollo’s crappy hay fever spell would wear off in a day or so. Until then, they had cough syrup. 

He wasn’t exactly looking forward to taking care of two codeine-filled preteens.

He heard the door open. “... What are you doig?” Austin’s voice was filled with confusion.

“Getting warm,” Will replied. 

“You know whed you press yourself into the radiator like that, it beans dud of the heat goes to the rest of the cabid, right?” 

“... I know,” Will sighed. “... But I… I can’t get warm any other way.”

Austin sighed. “... Alright, mad.” He flopped into his bed, curling up. “I bead, I’m cold too, but I’b dot curlig up to the radiator.”

Will stood up from the radiator. “... Sorry. I’m not gonna cuddle it anymore.”

Austin yawned. “... Thanks.”

Will sat down in his bed. He remembered the previous night, lying in his bed, crying and crying. He couldn’t stop crying. Nico had tried to comfort him, but he couldn’t be comforted. He’d honestly thought his last two siblings were dead. It had been a horrible feeling.

“... Guys?” Will murmured. 

“Yeah?” Austin responded.

“... Can I get a group hug? I… I just feel like I never properly welcomed you two home.”

Austin shrugged, sitting up. “Sure.”

Kayla and Austin came over and sat on Will’s bed. Will pulled them close and they put their arms around him, Kayla crawling into his lap, Austin leaning his head on his shoulder. “Ohh, darlin’,” Will whispered. “Ohh-h, my darlin’s. I was so scared.” His voice broke, he held them tighter. “I was so scared.”

“Don’t cry,” Austin whispered. “We’re okay.”

“We’re hobe now,” Kayla whispered. “It’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” Will repeated. “... It’s okay.” They held each other, enjoying the body warmth. Will’s hands warmed at the contact with his little siblings’ bodies. It felt like they were being reborn somehow, melting from the cold, coming alive. It was pleasant. Will wanted to stay there forever.

Will felt Austin yawn again. “... You need to lie down?”

Austin nodded. “... May I sleep in your bed? I bead, dot that I deed it, it just would be…”

“Of course. It’s no problem for me. Kayla, you wanna sleep in my bed too?”

Kayla nodded. “...I’d like that.”

Will nodded. They lay down, pressed together, limbs tangled, Kayla and Austin’s heads on Will’s chest. They held hands across Will’s body. Will could hear them sniffling softly. He prayed that their medicine would kick in soon. They deserved a night of peace. Will pulled the blankets up over them, nestling them in, tight and secure. Kayla took a shaky breath. 

“You okay?” Will whispered.

“... Yeah. I’b sorry. I just… I got overwhelbed.”

“Well, you’re safe now,” Will whispered. “Don’t worry about a thing, darlin’.”

Kayla nodded. Will felt her bury her face in his chest. He stroked her hair gently. She was shivering. Will moved his arm to hold her close, warm her up. He heard her breathing through her mouth, almost gasping. _ Please, gods, let the medicine kick in soon. _

He listened to their breathing, their sniffles. Kayla seemed to relax, her chills disappearing as she lay, letting Will keep her warm. She listened to his breathing, soft and peaceful. She could hear the breath moving in his chest, the beating of his heart. Austin’s fingers were warm and soft between hers. Her body had burned off her earlier strong emotions, and now all she felt were exhaustion and relief. Somehow the three of them had come through the attack alive. Somehow it was okay, at least for now.

And somehow, despite her and Austin’s terrible case of sniffles, they both were able to drift into a gentle sleep, safe in Will’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was kind of like pulling teeth to write. I don't know why, but the words just wouldn't come. I just kind of slapped it out in the middle of the night and here I am posting it. I hope it's okay.


	52. Non-shippy-His Final Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Austin's taken a great blow. Will and Kayla are there to pick him up from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place sometime around Lost Hero. In that few month period, anyway.

Will walked across the camp green. It was a coolish day in late March and Will was stuffed into an oversized hoodie that he’d bought with the small stipend Chiron gave him for his infirmary work. It didn’t do much to keep out the chill, and Will was looking forward to getting back to the cabin where it was warm. 

He pushed the door open, entering the cabin. He immediately saw Austin, his head bowed, sitting in a beanbag chair. Will heard quiet sniffles emanating from him. “Austin? You okay, man?”

“... Go ‘way,” Austin sniffled. 

Will sat next to him on the floor. “... Can I help with whatever it is?”

Austin shook his head. 

“... Can I give you a hug?” Will asked.

Austin held out his arms. Will crawled into the beanbag chair and pulled Austin close, patting between his shoulder blades. Austin buried his face in his chest. “... I’m sorry,” Austin sniffled.

“Don’t be,” Will replied. “Can you tell me what happened? If I know what happened, I can help you feel better.”

Austin sighed, hiccuping. “... I… my mother, she… I mean, we didn’t have the greatest relationship, but…”

“... Did she do something bad?” Will whispered, cuddling Austin.

“... No, she… she…” A sob broke from Austin’s throat. “... She’s dead.”

Will didn’t say any more. He held Austin close, rubbing between his shoulder blades. He felt Austin’s jerky gasps against his own chest, close. It hurt to see him cry like that. Will didn’t think he’d ever seen Austin cry before, he was normally a stable, happy soul. It only made his current state feel like more of a slap. 

“... And I’m such a shitty son,” Austin sobbed. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t there for her in the end.”

“... Did you know she was on her deathbed?” Will asked.

“... I knew she was sick,” Austin whispered. “But everyone always told me she was gonna be okay. She herself said she was gonna be okay. I didn’t… I should have known I was being lied to.”

“There was no way you could have known,” Will whispered. “There wasn’t.”

Austin shook his head, sniffling through sobs. He didn’t speak any more, nuzzling back into the safety of Will’s chest. Will only held him, letting his tears run into his shirt. He placed his chin on Austin’s head, wrapping a leg around him. He wished he could somehow squeeze the pain out of Austin, hold him so tight that the pain would just leak out of him. “... Austin?”

“... What?” Austin whispered. 

“... May I use my pain-carrying powers on you?”

Austin paused. It was a long pause. Finally, he nodded. “... Okay. Just… don’t make a big deal of anything you see.”

Will nodded. He closed his eyes and focused, slipping into Austin’s mind. He saw a thousand little flashes of things, a small Austin trying to make his mother proud with his music, his schoolwork, but failing in a thousand different ways. His grades were never high enough, his music was never sweet enough, a thousand iterations of disappointment passed through Ms. Lake’s eyes, focused on the boy who loved her more than anything. In his mind, this was only the final failure. He’d tried so hard, but he’d failed his mother until her final breath. 

The pain was crushing. 

It reminded Will of all the times he’d been given the Look of Disappointment by somebody or other at camp, the look of “why can’t you fight,” the look of “why couldn’t you save the person I loved.” It made him want to cry. He took a deep breath and blinked, fighting back the tears he wanted to shed.

He felt Austin sigh. He knew that it was a sigh of relief. To get that off his chest must have been heavenly. “... Thank you,” Austin whispered.

“Always welcome,” Will replied. His voice trembled--why? It wasn’t his pain to bear. He focused on Austin and Austin alone, trying to cure the pain. Austin’s breathing was more even, now, the gasps had faded. His shivers had faded too, he was melting into the beanbag. Will smiled. He studied Austin’s face, slack, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. “... Austin?”

Austin nodded. 

“You want to sleep?”

Austin nodded. “... My eyes won’t stay open.”

“Go sleep,” Will whispered. 

Austin nodded. He didn’t move. Will figured he intended to sleep right there in the beanbag. Will disentangled himself from him and crossed the cabin, retrieving a blanket from his bed. He draped a blanket about Austin’s shoulders and tucked him in lovingly. “Sleep well, man. I’ll see you later.”

Austin, already on the very edge of sleep, gave a small nod. 

  
  


A few hours passed. Austin woke up, but only long enough for him to move to his bed. He didn’t say anything to Will, who stayed in the cabin to make sure he was okay. Kayla entered the room a moment later. Her eyes fell on Austin, half-asleep in his bed, wrapped in a blanket. “Is he okay? He doesn’t usually sleep in the middle of the day like this.”

“He’s... not doing so well,” Will responded, sighing. “Kayla, his… his mother is dead.”

Kayla’s face fell. Her eyebrows crinkled. “Oh, _no.”_

“Yeah. He’s… he’s a little checked out right now. I don’t know if he’s sleeping or not but he’s not fully there. Just be… just be really gentle on him for the next few weeks. Just while he gets through the initial grief,” Will said in his gentlest voice. 

Kayla sat next to Austin, patting him on the shoulder. “... I’m sorry,” she whispered to the lump in the sheets. “I’m sorry.”

There was no response. 

“Guess you’re sleeping then,” Kayla whispered. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “... Sleep well.”

“... Um notta sleep,” Austin mumbled. 

“... Oh, sorry,” Kayla replied. “... You want me to go?”

Austin shook his head. 

“Okay,” Kayla whispered. She kicked off her shoes and lay down next to him, pressing her back against his. Her cuddles had always helped Will in the past, but she’d never tried it on Austin. Then again, she hadn’t ever seen Austin so sad. She remembered how Will had cried himself to sleep for so many months after Manhattan. What if that happened to Austin? Kayla rolled over and held him close, putting an arm around his blanketed body and pressing her cheek to his neck. She had no words to speak. Fear built in her chest, tears pricked at her eyes. She hurt for him, her entire being wanted to protect him from this pain.

“Kayla?” Will whispered. She hadn’t even noticed he was right there until she felt his fingers carding through her hair. “... Are you hurting too?”

She nodded. “I don’t… I don’t want…” Her voice broke and she closed her eyes. “... I don’t want him to be in pain.”

“I don’t either,” Will soothed, rubbing her shoulder. “But it won’t help him if we cry too. We need to be strong for him right now, okay?”

“... I know,” she whispered. “I know. But… it… I… I mean, I’ve seen…”

“You’ve seen a lot of grief,” Will murmured. “The Labyrinth, Manhattan, Lou Ellen’s issues after her father died. You’re too young to have seen this much.”

Kayla nodded. 

“... And it hurts you,” Will continued. “It hurts you to see the people you love hurting. And the pain just doesn’t stop. It’s overwhelming for you, I’d bet.”

Kayla nodded. “... It does. It hurts.” Her voice broke again.

Will knelt, getting level with her face and stroking her hair. “... Don’t cry, okay? Take a deep breath. It’s not your pain to bear.”

“... I know.” Kayla took a breath and held it.

“... It’s going to be okay,” Will whispered. “... It’s going to be okay.”

Kayla let out a shaky sigh. “... It’s gonna be okay,” she repeated. “... It’s gonna be okay.”

“That’s my girl,” Will whispered. “That’s my girl.”

Kayla felt Austin turn around, holding her. “... Don’t cry for me,” he whispered. “Please. Will’s right. It doesn’t help.”

“... I’m sorry,” Kayla whispered into Austin’s collar. “It just… I… it hurts me so much to see you in pain, to see _either_ of you in pain, that it… it really makes me want to cry. And I know it’s selfish, because you’re in so much pain and _you_ deserve the comfort, not me, and I’m so sorry, and it only makes me feel worse, and… I’m sorry.”

“... Don’t feel sad on my behalf,” Austin sighed. “It won’t help.”

“... I’ll try not to,” Kayla replied, squeezing Austin. “I’m sorry.”

Austin held her more tightly. “... Thanks.”

“... May I cuddle with you?” Will asked. “You two need cuddles, I think.”

Austin nodded. 

Will climbed in behind him, holding Austin close. “Thanks,” he murmured. Will’s arms curled around Austin’s soft blanketed body, gentle, safe. Austin melted under his touch. He closed his eyes, exhausted beyond words. The depths of his emotions, remembering all of his failures, had tired him. The heat of his siblings’s bodies traveled through his comforter, warming him, giving his heart some relief. He thought back to when he’d arrived at camp immediately after Manhattan. Kayla had been the only one there. He remembered how lonely she’d looked, never leaving her cabin except to eat and to practice shooting, and never speaking to anyone when she had. He remembered how she’d cried on his shoulder the first night after he was claimed, her nightmares terrifying her to the point of physical illness. Austin had wanted to rush her to the infirmary, but she’d refused, saying she’d be okay.

He’d had her sleep in his bed that night, so he could feel if she had nightmares.

He remembered meeting Will for the first time. Will had come stumbling into the cabin stooped with exhaustion, his hair a mess, his eyes red. Kayla had rushed in to hug him. Austin had got the impression that if Kayla hadn’t been so much shorter than him, he would have collapsed into her arms. He hadn’t even been able to properly put his things away before falling into bed. Austin had had his first proper greeting with Will the next day. He’d tentatively asked what had happened to make Will so tired. Will had said only that he didn’t want to talk about it. Austin had agreed not to press. After all, they were practically strangers back then. He had no right to press him on it.

About a week later, Will had told him that a loved one of his had killed himself that same day they’d met.

He remembered that that same night that Will had dropped that bomb, he’d been struck with a terrible homesickness, so bad he’d almost cried. Will had picked up that something was wrong and had gone in to comfort him, giving him drachma to use to Iris-message his mom. The mom he no longer had.

“... You guys… you guys are the only family I have now,” Austin murmured. “... I don’t have anything else.”

Will jerked slightly. Austin had referred to them as many things, friends, cabin mates, the other Apollo kids. But he’d never called them _family._ “... We’re your family now,” Will cooed. “You admitted it.”

Austin nodded. “... The only ones I have.”

“... Well, we’ll try not to disappoint,” Kayla murmured, hugging Austin a little tighter.

Austin didn’t reply. His whole body felt like a dead weight; he only wanted to sleep. In the silence that wrapped them, Austin’s mind floated to somewhere beyond thoughts and finally, into dreams.

Kayla noticed how soft his breath had become. “... Goodnight,” she whispered. “Sleep well.”

“... Yeah,” Will replied. “Sleep well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I've ever written something that focuses specifically on Austin before right now. Figures that the first thing I do to the poor guy is kill his mom.  
> Also, happy belated Easter! Or happy super belated Passover! Whichever! And happy belated birthday to my dad, who's actually reading these now!


	53. Percabeth- Would He Have Hurt You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been years since Meg ran away from Nero with Apollo. She's still affected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains suicidal thinking and mentions of somewhat graphic child abuse. Don't read if that sort of thing bothers you.

“What was _that?”_ Annabeth grabbed Percy by the arm, jerking him out of a light sleep. It was the middle of the night and Percy was really hoping for a peaceful night’s sleep.

Percy sat up and listened. A barely human sound echoed through the apartment, something halfway between a horrible moan and a scream, and it just _kept on going,_ whatever was making the sound was howling and howling. Percy huffed. “Stay here. I’m getting Meg. Just to make sure it’s not… eating her or whatever.”

Annabeth nodded. Percy stood up and tiptoed out of the room. He intended to sneak out, grab Meg, throw Meg into his room and kill whatever the troublesome beast was himself. Despite all of his planning, his breath still caught when he saw the scene in the living room. Meg was sprawled out on the floor on hands and knees, her legs crooked wildly behind her, her head hanging into a wastebasket. 

And she was _alone._

“... Meg?” Percy asked, walking closer to her. 

Meg flinched back, falling onto her side. Her glasses had fallen off. For the first time, Percy saw the pure fear in her eyes. “Don’t… don’t hurt me!”

Percy knelt down, making himself smaller, less intimidating. “... Meg, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“... That’s what you always say,” Meg sobbed. 

“... Because it’s always true,” Percy replied. “I’ve never hurt you.”

“No… no! No! You know… you know that isn’t… it’s not…!” She gasped and hid her face, leaning against the side of her sofa bed. “... I’m sorry… Nero. Do what you need to do. I’ve been a bad girl. I know.”

Percy’s heart stopped. _No. No. No. Oh. Gods. No._ He bit back the urge to scream and leaned in carefully. Meg didn’t move. Percy plucked her glasses off her nightstand.

“Don’t break those, please!” she whispered. “Please, I… I need those!”

Percy gently put them on her face. “... There. That should help.”

Meg looked at him for a long time. Her glasses fogged, the elbow that held her up collapsed out from under her and she fell hard onto her side, banging her small body against the sofa bed. “... Percy?”

“... Yeah,” Percy whispered. “It’s me. It’s just me. Are you okay? Are you… did you get sick on yourself?”

Meg didn’t move. Percy could see her shoulders shake. “... In the wastebasket,” she whispered. “Not on myself.”

“Okay,” Percy murmured. “That’s what I thought.” _Would he have hurt you for throwing up on yourself?_ “... May I hug you?”

Meg nodded listlessly. 

Percy reached out, picked up her limp little body and cradled it, pressing her head to his chest, rocking her back and forth. Her hair was soft between his fingers, the squeeze of her arms as she clung on to him was heartbreakingly gentle. She was shaking badly, sobs were breaking from her lips. _How? She’s so little, gods, how could anyone hurt someone this small and soft? It’s like hitting puppies with a hammer. Not even human._

_Not even fucking human._

Percy caught a glimpse of something glowing out of the corner of his eye and looked up. A man with thick dark hair and golden eyes was standing over them, glowing brightly. “What happened to Meg?” he commanded.

“You finally come for your girl, huh?” was all Percy said. It would hurt Meg too much if he told Apollo to leave them alone.

Apollo knelt down, putting a hand on Meg’s shoulder. “May I…?”

Percy’s gut clenched at the sight of a god’s hand so close to his body. “Only if she wants. Meg? Can Apollo hold you?”

Meg looked up, making eye contact with Apollo. Percy let her move, holding her bridal-style. “... Polly…?”

“Yes, my dear,” Apollo murmured. “It’s me.”

Percy snorted despite himself. _Polly? What the hell?_

“Is something funny, son of Poseidon?” Apollo asked. 

“... No,” Percy replied. 

“Good.” Apollo took Meg’s hand in his own, running his thumb over her small knuckles. “Shh, my dear. It’s okay. You’re safe now. Neither of us will hurt you.”

Meg pulled Apollo’s hand against her chest. Her small hands trembled. “... I… I…”

“Take your time. The words will come if you let them.”

“... Th-thank… you…” she managed through trembles. “... I… need… need you… needed you here.”

Apollo brushed hair off her cheek. “It’s not a problem, dear Meg.” 

Meg clung to Apollo’s hand with one of her own, clinging to Percy with the other, her arm around his neck. The mix of fear, pain and exhaustion in her glassy eyes hurt Percy’s heart. He thought back to his own abuse-related nightmares, the way Annabeth held him after. He’d never seen himself in the mirror afterwards, and now he was wondering if he looked the same way, glassy-eyed, tearful and shaky. It made him feel sorry for Annabeth. 

He heard her cry out softly, weakly. Apollo leaned in closer, putting his forehead against hers. “... It’s okay, my dear.”

“... It is,” Meg whispered, her voice and lip trembling, tears running down her cheeks. “It is, isn’t it? I’m here and you’re here and Percy’s here and… and no one’s gonna… gonna hurt us.” Her voice tapered to a tiny squeak.

“... No one’s gonna hurt you,” Percy whispered. “No one. I won’t let them.”

“Same,” Apollo replied. “If anyone messes with you, they’ll have the wrath of a god _and_ a demigod against them.”

“... Thanks,” Meg whispered. “... I love you two, okay? I do.”

“Love you too,” Apollo replied, putting a kiss on her forehead. 

Meg gave a gentle sigh and relaxed into Percy’s arms. All of her tense muscles seemed to unclench all at once, leaving her limp, exhausted. Percy, for Meg’s sake, didn’t say anything. If Meg seemed to like it, then Percy had no comments to make. 

“... Should I stay the night?” Apollo asked. “Would it help if I did?”

Percy ignored the clench in his gut when he said that and looked at Meg.

“... Only if you want to,” Meg whispered. “I’ll be okay. It was… it was only a nightmare.”

“I know,” Apollo responded, stroking the final tears off her cheek, “but nightmares can be really bad sometimes.”

“It helps if you… if you can tell yourself it isn’t real,” she murmured. 

“... Yes, but… if you don’t have someone by your side when it happens, it can be… it can be really frightening,” Apollo responded. 

“I know,” she whispered. “But I’m not alone, am I? I don’t think I was alone for even a minute or two before Percy arrived, and then you were there not five minutes later. Polly, I’m fine.”

“I know.” Apollo whispered sadly. “I know.” Apollo looked up into Percy’s eyes. They glittered a cold shade of green, there was almost no warmth in them when he looked at Apollo. “... I might… I might have to leave. I don’t think… I don’t think Percy wants me here.”

“He doesn’t,” Meg sighed. “... I’m just glad he’s being civil about your presence right now.”

“... Trust me, it’s not easy,” Percy replied. 

“... I’m aware.” Was that _humility_ coming from Apollo’s mouth? “I know… look, I know I’m annoying sometimes. My dear young ma- I mean, my dear Meg has made that very clear. But thank you for not kicking me out immediately. I was very concerned.”

“Trust me, I was too,” Percy replied. “I guess that’s something we can both agree on.”

“Yes,” Apollo replied. “It is.”

“... Will I be seeing you again soon?” Meg blurted, clutching Apollo’s hand a little tighter. 

“Of course, dearest Meg,” Apollo responded. “Does tomorrow work?”

Meg looked up at Percy. Percy gave her a gentle smile. “... Yeah. Tomorrow works.”

“Then I’ll see you then, my dear.” Apollo kissed her forehead again, a sort of blessing, his soft lips left a little print of light on the skin. “Goodbye, dear Meg. I will see you then.”

“Goodbye, Polly.” 

Percy closed his eyes as Apollo dissolved into light. When he finally opened them, the room was empty except for a trace of golden dust and Meg’s figure, curled up safe against his chest. The light on her forehead had faded. “... Why is it so hard for me to deny you anything?” 

“I don’t know,” Meg murmured. “... But… thank you. I… Apollo, he… his presence is comforting to me. And… I’m so glad you let him in.”

“... If you like it, I’ll put up with it,” Percy sighed. “As long as he doesn’t start hurting you.”

“... He won’t,” Meg murmured. “I know he won’t.”

“I’m glad. You have no idea how important that trust is, I can assure you of that.”

“... Stop talking like you’re all smart,” Meg grumbled. 

Percy laughed, the chuckles sending vibrations through Meg’s body. “Well, I’m sorry for that.”

“Apology accepted,” Meg murmured. 

Percy had a thought. “... Now that you’re feeling better, can you… can you answer a few questions for me?”

“Sure,” Meg replied.

“When you got sick, where did it happen?” Percy asked. “You didn’t throw up in your bed, did you?”

“... I don’t remember,” Meg sighed. “It was all… it was all so dark and so confusing and scary. I’ll check, though.” She rolled out of his arms, standing up. In the dim light, she could barely see the fluid stains on the mattress. Her heart twisted. Oh, gods, she _had_ thrown up in the bed. Percy was going to kill her. 

“What did you find?” Percy asked.

“... I…” She couldn’t speak. Her mouth wouldn’t move. All she could feel were hands, cold, cruel hands, tearing at her, bruising and ripping skin, sending blood pouring down her small body, only for all the trauma to be reduced to only a few tiny scars by a magic drink that looked like piss and tasted like chocolate. 

Meg flinched violently as a hand was placed on her shoulder. “Are you crying again?” Percy asked gently.

“... I…” Meg’s whole body wanted to give out. Fear knifed at her chest. She was hyperventilating again, gasping.

“... Oh, no,” Percy suddenly sighed. “You _did_ throw up on the bed. Damn. Well… we can strip the bed now and wash the sheets later. There’s a mattress protector on the mattress so it should be fine. And…" Percy scratched his head. “... I guess you’re sleeping with Annabeth and I tonight. Either that or the bathtub.”

Meg couldn’t speak. She was frozen as Percy began pulling the sheets off her bed, trembling. Somehow, Percy wasn’t mad. He wasn’t going to hurt her. But wasn’t that wrong? This wasn’t how these sorts of things usually happened. If you soiled yourself in some way, they would give you twenty lashes and then make you sleep in your ruined bed until whatever day laundry was scheduled for. 

No one helped you.

No one reassured you.

No one offered you _their own bed to sleep in._

Meg forced her trembling body to move. She pulled off the fitted sheet and crammed it into the bag Percy had produced before straightening up, still not daring to meet Percy’s eyes. “... Permission to take a shower?” Meg asked meekly. 

“Please do,” Percy replied. 

Meg nodded, grabbing some clothes before turning and walking into the bathroom. _He thinks I’m disgusting. He’s gonna make me sleep in the tub. I mean, I don’t know why he even offered me his bed in the first place. It was probably just a joke, anyway._

Meg’s tears mixed with the shower water as it ran over her, cleaning her body, warming her up. _Oh, gods, I’m such a bad girl, such a dirty girl. Maybe I should just fill this tub and let myself drown. I wonder what that would feel like. I wonder if it hurts, or if it’s just tight in your chest. I deserve it if it hurts, but it would be… it would be so nice if it didn’t… Ah, fuck it, what am I thinking? I’d just chicken out. You know what he always told you, in the end, you’d never get what you deserve. You’d never have the courage to do what was right._

Meg finished washing herself. She wrapped herself in a nearby towel, not bothering to dry her hair, just letting the water run over her shoulders and into the towel alongside her tears. She didn’t bother to put her glasses back on. She wanted the little bathroom to remain as fuzzy as her thoughts. 

_See? You chickened out. Nero was right, you never could do the right thing. You’re such a dirty little cunt such a bad child such a nasty little bitch._ Meg grabbed the sides of her head. _You deserve all the pain all the blood shed from your body I just wished for once in your fucking life you’d do the right thing and drown your sorry ass._ She tore at her hair, sobs breaking from her throat. _Don’t fucking cry for him now. Don’t cry for your Apollo. He isn’t listening. He’s in a hotel in Vegas with a whore. He’s in a hotel with a whore and he isn’t listening. And that’s a damn good thing, too, because that means you can’t be his burden anymore. Now the only person who has to deal with your sorry, maggot-ridden, rotting, dirty, fluid-spewing self is_

“Meg?” 

Percy’s voice cut through Meg’s thoughts like a knife through butter. “... What?”

“Are you okay? Annabeth and I heard you crying really loud.”

Meg blinked. She was naked on the floor. Where were her glasses? She’d taken them off before she showered. She stood up slowly. “I’m fine, Percy.” She could see a flesh-colored blur in front of her; reaching out, she touched glass. A mirror. She was that horrid blob. She saw a flash of pink on the counter. Her glasses! _That’s_ why she bought the pink ones. _Because you’re too fucking dumb and useless to even keep track of your glasses, and pink is an easy color to pick out when you're half blind._

She put on her glasses. Her own face appeared in front of her, looking red and puffy. Her hair was soaked, running water down over her naked body, a body peppered with the painfully red results of all her past sins. It made her want to puke. She toweled her hair dry and brushed it. Her scalp was sore-why? She put on her clothes. It was a shirt that came down past her knees and a pair of sleep shorts. She put her hand on the knob of the door that led from the bathroom to Percy and Annabeth’s bedroom. She couldn’t stop shaking. Her stomach was hurting again. She wanted to cry. She forced herself to open the door-- _if they hurt you, you deserve it--_ and stepped into the bedroom to the concerned looks of Percy and Annabeth. “... Meg,” Percy murmured.

“... Percy.”

Percy came over to her. “You okay?”

“... I’m sorry,” Meg managed. “For throwing up and for worrying you. It was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Percy soothed. “You didn’t have any control. Anyway, I got your bed stripped…”

“... I’m so sorry,” Meg murmured.

“... and I washed out the wastebasket…”

“... I’m so so sorry, Percy, I should have… should have done that. I really should have.”

“... so everything is clean,” Percy finished. 

“... I’m so sorry. I’m a… I’m so so so sorry.” Her voice was barely a whisper. 

“Why are you apologizing?” Percy asked. “I already told you it wasn’t your fault.”

“Because! It’s gross and you shouldn’t have to deal with that,” Meg sniffled.

“Well, I appreciate your concern,” Percy said. “But really, I’m okay. I’m more worried about you, Meg. You were crying so hard in there. We could hear it out here.”

“... We could,” Annabeth murmured. “It was really terrible to listen to.”

“I’m so sorry,” Meg whispered. “I’ve been… I’ve been nothing but a burden on you guys. I’m so sorry.”

“No you haven’t,” Annabeth soothed. “You’re our friend. Not a burden.”

“Yeah,” Percy whispered. He put an arm around Meg’s shoulder, guiding her to the bed. “You’re not a burden on me. Friends are never burdensome.”

Tears welled in Meg’s eyes. “... Thanks.” 

Percy sat her down on the edge of the bed, sitting next to her. “You’re always welcome. Now make yourself comfortable, okay? This bed is more than big enough for the three of us.”

“It is,” Meg admired. The bed took up most of the room, the only parts of the room that weren’t bed was occupied by Annabeth’s Lego collection. It was only a mattress on the floor, and yet it was the nicest bed Meg thought she’d ever seen. “... Are… are you sure you want to share it?”

“I wouldn’t feel right about making you sleep on the floor,” Percy replied. “Annabeth and I talked this out when you were in the shower. We think this is… we think this is the right thing to do.”

Meg’s lip trembled. Her words wouldn’t come.

“Why is that making you sad?” Percy whispered. “What hurts about this?”

“... I… I feel bad,” Meg managed.

“For throwing up on yourself? Don’t. You were in the middle of a nightmare, you had no control. And there wasn’t even that much stuff on the sheets anyway. The vast majority of it wound up in the wastebasket. You did so well,” Percy replied. stroking her hair. _He hurt her. At some point, probably in young childhood, she soiled the bed and he hurt her for it. I can’t fucking believe it. Why would anyone hurt a child like that?_ “You did so well.”

Meg leaned into the touch. She was shaking badly, trembling, cold. “... But… I… I did something wrong. I deserve a punishment, not a reward. Percy, I… I _deserve_ to sleep on the floor, if I deserve to stay in your apartment at all.”

 _“Meg.”_ Percy clamped his hands on her shoulders. “Meg. Listen to me. _You. Did. Nothing. Wrong._ It wasn’t your _fault,_ Meg. It was an accident. You couldn’t have helped it. You don’t deserve to be punished for something that was never your fault. And you certainly don’t deserve to be abused or kicked to the curb or forced to sleep on the floor for it. Now get between Annabeth and I and go to sleep.”

Meg sniffled. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “... I hope you understand if I… if I don’t believe you on that one.” 

“Believe me, I do. We both do,” Percy soothed. 

“We both do,” Annabeth echoed. 

Meg lay down and slipped under the sheets, curling up in the fetal position, leaving a few inches of space between her and Annabeth. _Don’t you DARE contaminate their bed with your FILTH. You fucking monster._

Annabeth gently petted her still-slightly-wet hair. “... It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay. We want you here, Meg. We care about you.”

“... I’ll make it up to you two somehow. I promise,” Meg whispered. “It’s all I can do.”

“Don’t worry about that tonight.” Annabeth’s voice was unbearably tender. “It’ll only make it hard to sleep.”

Meg nodded. “... I’m sorry. It just… it hurts. Bad.”

Percy lay down beside her, patting her back. “I know. I know it hurts. Is there… is there anything we can do besides what we’ve already done?”

“No. You two… you two have been perfect,” Meg whimpered. “... You two deserve everything the world has to offer.”

Annabeth smiled, putting an arm around Meg. “You’re sweet, Meg. Just try and relax tonight, okay?”

Meg sniffled, leaning her head against Annabeth’s chest. “... Thanks.”

Percy cuddled close to the two girls, sandwiching Meg between him and Annabeth. He held Annabeth’s hand over Meg’s body. “... We mean that, Meg. It’s okay now. Neither of us are ever going to hurt you.”

“... Thanks.” Meg’s voice broke. “... Thank you so much.”

“You’re always welcome,” Percy responded. 

“Yeah. You’re always…” Annabeth’s voice was cut off by a yawn. She closed her eyes. “... welcome. Percy, will you turn out the lights? You’re closest.”

Percy nodded and clicked off the lights, plunging the room into darkness before cuddling back up to the two girls, kissing Annabeth gently on her lips before lying down and closing his eyes. “That better?”

“... Yeah,” Annabeth whispered. “... Ugh, I’m so tired.”

“Sleep. You’ve had a busy day, Wise Girl,” Percy murmured, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. 

Annabeth didn’t say any more. Meg tried to focus on the cuddle, on the weight of their arms across her body, on the warmth of the bed, of the softness of Annabeth’s chest against her head. She tried to focus on anything but her pain and shame. It was impossible for her to be cold in this warmth, but she still felt like trembling whenever her mind drifted to her moment of waking, vomit spewing from her lips as she choked on sobs, the fear clenching her heart like an icy fist. She had been a bad girl, and there had been no Percy to tell her it was okay, no Apollo to kiss her gently and call her his dearest Meg. There had only been the Beast. And it was only him and her. 

Meg didn’t want to think about that anymore.

Her mind drifted to Apollo. What was his plan for tomorrow? She assumed they were just gonna hang out, play the piano if Apollo could get her to Olympus, maybe drive the sun chariot around. It would be fun. Time spent with Apollo usually was. She loved him. She really did. And she loved Percy and Annabeth too, these two people who treated her like family, these two people that held her as her emotions stabilized and her mind floated.

And with thoughts like that in her head, she was finally able to fall into a tenuous sleep, wrapped up safe and warm in Percy and Annabeth’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft Percy is good. Soft Annabeth is good. Percy and Annabeth acting like Meg's older siblings are good. Cuddles are good. Concerned Apollo is good. Apollo and Meg being friends (with possible benefits) is good. Meg being treated well and given a legitimate chance to recover from some of her fairly severe childhood abuse and trauma is good. Percy being protective of children is good. Annabeth and Meg being friends (as opposed to her being jealous of Meg hanging out with Percy) is good. Percy being Meg's friend is good. Forehead kisses are good. Hair pets are good. Hurt/comfort is good.


	54. Mentions of Charlena, Chrisse- Being A Friend Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After crying about Chris, Clarisse is a little bit of a mess. Silena helps. Also, Clarisse is very, very, very touch starved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel to Chapter 6 in this doc, "[being a friend] is more difficult than giving spearfighting lessons." If you're reading these out of order, you might want to read that before reading this.  
> Also, mentions of child abuse.

Silena’s arm rested on Clarisse’s hip as they walked through the Big House together. Clarisse couldn’t help but feel the warmth through her clothes. She thought she’d hate it, she really did, but now she didn’t want to pull away. She thought back to Chris, alone in the basement, asleep, insane. She prayed silently that he wouldn’t have any nightmares. It was hard enough to deal with him now anyway. She didn’t know how she would comfort him if he had a nightmare. 

Her mind drifted to Silena. Before today, Silena had never even given her so much as a backwards glance. And now she was almost holding her, and had been comforting her earlier in the basement. “... Silena?”

“Yes?” Silena looked over at her, blue eyes glinting from under her bleached hair. 

“... Did Chiron put you up to this?”

“... He’s concerned about you,” Silena responded. “He… he told me he was worried about you and I offered to check on you. That was all.”

“... So he did put you up to this,” Clarisse sighed. “Well then… I’m sorry.”

Silena laughed, a bright sound that reminded Clarisse of those little brown birds that are everywhere. “No, honey, it’s fine. I volunteered on my own free will. He didn’t  _ make  _ me do anything.”

Clarisse blushed. “... Thanks.” She thought back to the last time she’d had a friend and, realizing it had been Chris, decided not to count her blessings. “... I hope you understand if I still don’t know why you’re doing this.”

“You wanna know why? Because you’re always alienating people, and I think that makes you lonely. I think it’s a vicious cycle for you. You’re mean to people because you’re lonely and sad and then people don’t want to be around you because you’re mean,” Silena explained. 

“... Actually, I’m a dick to everyone because I don’t want anyone to be a dick to me. But okay,” Clarisse replied. 

“You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, you know.”

“Fuck does that mean? Why the hell would I want to catch flies?” Clarisse asked. “Flies don’t even like honey. If you want to catch flies, use a dog turd or something.”

“... It’s a proverb,” Silena sighed. “It means people like you if you’re nice.”

“Untrue, but okay,” Clarisse responded. 

Silena shook her head. “... I’m not arguing with you, Risse,” she responded. She pulled Clarisse into a bathroom off of one of the bedrooms in the Big House. 

“By the way, why are you calling me Risse?” Clarisse leaned heavily against the wall.

“Because you called me ‘Sil’,” Silena responded, wetting a washcloth. “Clean your face up with this, okay? Your face is all salty and crusty.”

Clarisse took it and scrubbed over her face harshly. “Your  _ mom’s  _ face is--”

“--Are you sure you want to continue that sentence?” Silena finished. 

Clarisse pursed her lips. “... You’re right.” She threw the cloth into the sink, scanning Silena up and down. Her hair was bleached, but she hadn’t bothered to touch up her roots. Despite all the extensive chemical treatments she’d clearly done to it, it still somehow looked soft. Clarisse kind of wanted to touch it. “... Anyway, thanks.”

“... You’re welcome,” Silena responded. “Are you feeling any better?”

Clarisse sighed. “... Not really. I mean… it still hurts. And I… I don’t think it’ll stop hurting. I mean, Chris is the only friend I’ve ever had. And now he… he doesn’t even recognize me.” Clarisse folded her arms, wrapping herself in her cloak. 

“... Yeah,” Silena whispered. “Yeah. That must hurt really bad.”

Clarisse nodded. “It does. It feels like… it feels like an infected wound, like… it doesn’t… it just feels like it’s rotten.”

“Oh, honey,” Silena murmured. “I’m so sorry.” She stepped towards Clarisse. “May I help make it better?” 

“If you can, yes.”

Silena stepped closer and wrapped her arms around Clarisse. Clarisse buried her face in her shoulder. She smelled of roses, so strong and sweet it made Clarisse’s head feel swollen. A sudden rush of powerful need shot through her body; she would have given her right arm to stay there forever, shut up in that remote and quiet bathroom with Silena. She could forget about Chris’s problems. She could forget about the Titan threat. She could forget about the Labyrinth. She could forget about the stinging injury in her chest she received while bringing him to camp. 

“... Aren’t you gonna hug me back?” Silena asked.

_ Shit.  _ Of course. “... I’m… I’m sorry,” Clarisse managed, awkwardly putting her arms around Silena’s waist. Clarisse noticed suddenly that Silena had a really nice figure. It reminded her of the old picture of her grandmother that hung on the wall of her home, the one where she was only about 20 and working as a combat nurse in Vietnam. “... I haven’t… I don’t…”

“Not too used to nonviolent physical contact, huh?”

Clarisse’s head felt like a hot air balloon, light and full of heat. “... No,” she whispered. 

“Well, no time like the present to get yourself used to it,” Silena replied. 

“Yeah, I… I wasn’t… uh… yeah,” Clarisse stammered. She wanted to apologize, but coherency wasn’t happening. 

“... Not hugged much as a child?” Silena guessed. 

“... Not really,” Clarisse murmured. “My… my grandmother isn’t a hugger. She’s a good person but she’s not a hugger.”

“What about your mom?” 

Silena’s question, innocuous as it was, made Clarisse’s painful wound act up again. She remembered the heat of the bullet as it tore at her skin, flesh ripping, aching, her own screams echoing eerily about the ceilings as she tried to pull Chris to her truck and drive to safety. The memory made her shudder. “... I don’t want to talk about it.”

Silena pulled away, scanning her face. Clarisse’s stomach turned. She felt as if Silena could see through her. She suddenly had a feeling like she wasn’t wearing enough clothes. “... Okay,” Silena finally whispered, her big blue eyes kind. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I can’t make you.”

“... Thanks,” Clarisse whispered.  _ It’s bad enough Annabeth had to spend three days keeping me from bleeding out. She’s already suspicious. I don’t want Silena finding out as well. _

Silena held her for a few moments more. Silena was warm, soft, her arms were tender around Clarisse’s back. Clarisse leaned her head down into Silena’s shoulder. Clarisse remembered every time as a child when she’d wanted a hug and hadn’t gotten one and closed her eyes, wishing to soak up the touch like a sponge.

Finally, they separated. “... Thank you,” Clarisse whispered, her voice sounding shockingly hoarse to her own ears. 

Silena smiled and giggled. “It’s no problem,” she laughed. “Don’t worry about it.”

_ Okay, this girl is a bubblehead. And I’m going to protect her with my life.  _ Clarisse smiled and shook her head. “No, seriously, I owe you one.”

“I mean, the fact that you’re my friend now is good enough for me,” Silena laughed. “As I said, I could use a friend that doesn’t want to get in my panties.”

“Right,” Clarisse replied, tying and retying her bandanna over her hair. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

Silena blushed deeply. “... I… kind of. We… I mean, Charlie and I…”

“Wait, do you mean Beckendorf?”

“... Yeah. I mean… we... he clearly likes me, I’ve made it clear I like him, but our relationship is… nonexistent,” Silena sighed. 

“Oh. Well…” Clarisse shrugged. “... I don’t know how to help you with that.”

“Didn’t think you would,” Silena giggled. She shook her head. “... Well, I guess I’ll get it sorted someday.”

“That’s a positive way to think about it,” Clarisse responded. 

“I try. Anyway… why did you ask?”

“About the boyfriend? I was just curious, really. I mean… a girl like you usually has one,” Clarisse responded. 

Silena blushed, twirling her hair around her finger. “Aww, thanks, Risse.”

“You’re welcome,” Clarisse responded. 

Silena looked around, suddenly wrinkling her nose. “Let’s get out of here. I’d rather talk somewhere that’s  _ not  _ a bathroom.”

Clarisse laughed. “Sure, Sil.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt like writing some soft platonic Ruegard content after reading a fic of it earlier today. Don't remember the name. Only found it because somebody who left kudos on "The Percy/Sally Reunion that RRR Never Bothered to Write" had it bookmarked and sometimes I like to see what my followers read/produce.  
> Anyway, this was the result. I'm hoping to write more soon. Maybe I'll finally fucking finish "The Things Love Can Overlook." It's super close to being done, but I don't know how to end it. I'm thinking of a talk between Clarisse and Miranda where they cuddle and discuss their recoveries. But honestly, the stuff in that fic are such tricky subjects that that sort of thing literally could take years to kick, I mean, I was into self harm and I relapsed three times that I remember since "quitting." And since that's only what I remember, there were probably more. 
> 
> Sorry. I'm rambling. I'm just trying to figure out how I'm gonna finish TTLCO, because it's basically done and I don't have any more ideas for plot developments, so...


	55. Percabeth- Could Have Saved Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (MAJOR TBM SPOILERS) 
> 
> I've always wondered what it looked like when Grover told Annabeth and Percy about Jason's death. I tried to write it out. It may not be actually good, but here it is. And I'm happy it exists at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for suicidal thoughts. Also, Piper doesn't really look all that good here.

Percy jolted awake to a knock at the door. He looked up to see Annabeth stand up from her latest project, an Empire State Building made entirely of his old Coke cans, and open the door. It was his mother. 

“Annabeth, dear! Is Percy awake?” 

Annabeth looked back. Percy gave her the thumbs-up.

“Yeah, he is,” she replied. 

“Good. You two have a visitor. Percy, you decent?”

Percy sat up. “Ugh. Pass me a shirt, will you?”

“I’m not going into that pile,” Annabeth grumbled, indicating to the huge pile of Percy’s clothing on a shelf in his closet. “Get it yourself.”

Percy stood up and put on a shirt. “What is your aversion to my closet?”

“Because,” Annabeth started, leaning away from her creation, “when you keep that level of filth, there could be the largest fucking spider nest in New York State in there and you’d never know.”

Percy nodded. “Gotcha.” He turned back to his mom. “Who wants to see me?”

His mom smiled and stepped aside. Grover stood at the door, looking nervous.

Percy’s face broke out into a smile. “Grover!” He grabbed him in a hug. “Dude, I feel like it’s been a million years! What’s up? What’s the situation out west?”

Grover pulled away. “... I wish… I wish I had better news,” Grover admitted.

“Okay.”

“... Honestly, it’s not looking good.”

“Do you need me to come out with the Greeks?” Percy asked.

“... Maybe. Not right now, but maybe.”

Percy nodded. “Come in. Give Annabeth and I a full update.”

Grover nodded. They entered and sat down on Percy’s bed. Annabeth came down and sat down next to Grover. “Hey.”

“Hey. Anyway… last Emperor is Caligula.”

“I knew it!” Annabeth cried. “With his reputation, I’d be surprised if he _wasn’t_ in the Triumvirate.”

“And he’s… _really crazy._ He’s gonna… he’s going for Rome. Trust me, he makes the other two look like a joke.”

“And I’ll need to fight this guy?” Percy asked.

“Maybe. Anyway… I have one more bad news. This one’s… personal.”

“As if the others weren’t?” Percy grumbled.

“It’s… it’s about… it’s about Jason.” Grover hesitated.

“He’s fucking dead, isn’t he?” Percy blurted. 

Grover was silent.

“He is! He’s fucking… _fucking dead!_ ” Percy shot up and punched a hole in the wall. A water bottle sitting on the floor next to the bed exploded and water shot everywhere. “Son of a bitch… Where was he? What happened?” 

“Caligula killed him. He and Apollo and Piper and Meg had infiltrated Caligula’s party yacht--”

“He was on a _yacht?_ On the _water?”_ Percy yelled, his voice crescendoing into a shrill shriek. “In _my_ element? Where I could have _saved_ him?”

“--Percy, I--”

“--Fuck this,” Percy growled. “I can’t take this.” He stormed out of the room. Grover could hear his footsteps echoing down the hallway before disappearing.

“... Is he really… really… dead?” Annabeth asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her eyes were wide and wet.

“... I’m sorry, Annabeth,” Grover whispered. “I really am. I failed him, I’m sorry.”

Annabeth put her head in her hands and sobbed. Grover pulled her in and eased her head onto his shoulder. “Grover… why? Why? Why Jason?”

“... He sacrificed himself,” Grover whispered. “For… for Apollo and Meg.”

“Of course.” Annabeth sniffled, raising her head to wipe her eyes. “Fucking self-sacrificial bastard.”

Grover nodded. “I know. I know.”

“What about Piper?” Annabeth asked, wiping her eyes. “How’s she?”

“Not well. Her dad went bankrupt and nuts, something to do with the Triumvirate. Anyway, she’s moving to Oklahoma because they’ve got a place there. Also, she and Jason split. I don’t know why the hell she did that, especially when she knew he was going to die.

“Yeah, I don’t think I approve of her doing that.”

Annabeth sniffled. “That’s… unlike her. I don’t know why she did that either. I mean, I’m sure she had _some_ reason, but…”

“Yeah. It’s weird. Hey, maybe we’ll find out that the Triumvirate had some mind control or something like that on her that made her do that.” Grover started when he saw the horror on her face. “... I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” Annabeth shivered. “No… no mind control.”

“Right, of course,” Grover nodded.

Annabeth put her head back in her hands. Grover went for the hug again. Annabeth pulled away slightly. “You smell like a pig.”

“I… oh, sorry. Yeah… I gotta admit, being Lord of the Wild and that… my personal hygiene’s gotten a little hit or miss.”

Annabeth nodded. “Understood.” She lifted her head. “Where’s Percy?”

“Left a bit ago.”

“No, I know that. Where’d he go? I wasn’t listening.”

“Beats the hell out of me. For all I know, he went to go beat up Thanatos for taking Jason’s soul.” Grover shook his head. 

Annabeth stood up. “... I’ll ask Sally,” she decided. “He may have told her.”

“He’d _better_ have told her,” Grover grumbled. “Don’t think I don’t know he went missing for eight months.” He stood up and followed her. 

Sally was sitting in the kitchen, looking rattled. “Who died?” she whispered. 

“Jason,” Grover murmured. 

“... I never met him,” Sally murmured. “But from what I’ve heard, he was a really good kid.”

“He was,” Annabeth sniffled. “But… anyway, did you see…” 

“Percy stormed out,” Sally murmured. “He just said he was going out. Paul’s out looking for him.”

“Want me to go help?” Grover offered. “I could smell him from Ohio, I can find him in no time flat.”

“Please,” Sally murmured. “I’m worried about him.”

Grover nodded. “Monsters?”

“I wish,” Sally whispered. 

Grover nodded. “Want to continue this on the way to find Percy?”

Sally jumped up. “Of course. Annabeth, dear, what are you going to do?”

“... I… I guess I’ll stay here,” she whispered. “... Please bring him back safe.”

Grover nodded. “Hey, we got him to camp safe. We can get him here just fine.”

Annabeth nodded. Grover and Sally left. “What could be worse than monsters? Demigods? Is someone out to get him?” Grover asked.

“Well, besides monsters, not as far as I know,” Sally murmured. She pressed the button to summon the elevator and sighed. “I… he… he’s…”

“He’s what?”

The elevator arrived. Sally sighed and leaned against the elevator wall. “I… Percy, he… he’s been… he’s been… I mean, he’s always been a bit… a bit self-destructive, since age six and a half he’s been self-destructive. But… ever since he’d got back, he… he’s been even worse.”

“You think Percy would…”

“I worry,” Sally whispered.

Grover nodded. “I worry too.”

Sally talked the entire ride, but Grover wasn’t paying an exceptional amount of attention. He could smell Percy, he knew they were close. They crossed a bridge; the smell flared, then diminished. “Turn back, turn back. He’s on the bridge somewhere.”

Sally nodded. Grover could see her knuckles, white on the wheel. A tear tracked down her cheek. Grover wanted to comfort her, but he was so scared himself that he could barely speak. Sally made a U-turn and pulled over right off the bridge. Grover barreled out of the car and ran for the bridge, dodging traffic, hollering “Percy! Percy!”

There was no response. Grover could smell him. He was _right there._ But he couldn’t be seen. He dodged an incoming semi-truck and looked over the side of the bridge.

Percy was lying on one of the crossbars, below the bridge itself, staring at the sky. 

“Percy!” Grover jumped down onto the crossbar, thanking the gods that he was part mountain goat. “Oh gods, we… your mother thought… your mother thought you had killed yourself!”

Percy looked up, noticing Grover for the first time. “... She did?”

Grover saw the redness in his eyes and his heart twisted. “... Yeah. She was so scared. She was saying the whole ride, you know, ‘Percy’s been so sad lately, this could just be the final nail in the coffin’ and ‘He’s my only son, I can’t lose him’ and… and… and a lot of other things,” Grover panted, out of breath. 

Percy sniffled. “... I… I never meant to upset her, I just… I didn’t want…”

Grover noticed how unfocused his gaze was, the slight tremors in his lower lip. “... You didn’t want anyone to see you cry?”

Percy nodded. 

“C’mere, man. Get a hug. You need it,” Grover murmured. 

Percy sat up slowly and carefully, scooting into Grover’s arms and burying his face into his shoulder. “... ‘M sorry. I never meant… never meant to scare you.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. You’re sad and angry and that’s normal.” Grover patted Percy’s back gently. 

Percy nodded.

There was a long pause. Grover mindlessly patted Percy’s back, trying to bring some comfort. After a moment, Percy broke the silence. “... Was anyone with him?”

“... Piper. Apollo. Meg. They were there.”

Percy sniffled. “Glad he at least had his girlfriend there.”

“Actually, they split.”

“Fuck that bitch,” Percy sniffled. “Fuck her for not being there for him.”

“You don’t mean that,” Grover chided gently.

“... You’re right,” Percy sighed. “... I don’t. It just…” His voice broke again. “... I could have saved him. If I hadn’t been so selfish… if I hadn’t insisted on staying in New York… if I had gone with Apollo and Meg and helped them… been with them… then I could have saved… I could have saved him…” _You godawful, selfish fuck. You got your friend killed. Not Caligula. You. You, you, you._

“... It wasn’t your fault,” Grover murmured. “Don’t worry about it.”

“... He was in the water,” Percy whimpered. “In my element. I could have saved him.”

“There’s nothing you can do now,” Grover soothed. “The past is in the past. There’s nothing you can do now. Beating yourself up won’t help.”

“... I wish I had gone instead. I wish I had… I would have jumped in front of that sword. I would have taken it for him. I would have.”

“... You would have died in his place?” Grover whispered. 

Percy nodded. “In a fucking heartbeat.”

Grover didn’t know how to respond. He held Percy a little tighter, wanting to cling to the boy--no, _man--_ whose whole existence seemed so fleeting and precious that Grover would have killed for the opportunity just to keep it going. He was Percy’s satyr.

He was Percy’s _protector._

He was going to keep him safe.

“... Do you want to die?” Grover asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

_Yes. Yes. Absolutely. I want to die I want to disappear I want to vanish I want to be no more._ “... I don’t know,” Percy whispered. “I don’t know.”

“... Let me know if you do, okay?” Grover whispered. “I want to… I want to be there for you if you need.”

Percy nodded. They were silent for a very long time. Finally, Percy mumbled “... Will you bring me to the Montauk Beach house? I want… I want… I need to think.”

“... Sure. I mean, if your mom says it’s fine,” Grover replied. “But we really should talk to Annabeth first. She’s worried sick about you.”

“... Now I _really_ feel like shit,” Percy mumbled. 

“... Don’t worry about it,” Grover replied. “She’ll forgive you, I’m sure.”

“... I hope so,” Percy murmured. “... Anyway, should we go?”

“Sure,” Grover replied. He jumped back up onto the bridge, pulling Percy behind him. Percy stumbled after Grover as they returned to the Prius. His feet felt like lead, his legs like jelly. His ribs felt hollow. He barely registered being pushed into the car, Sally’s hands on his arm. “Percy! Oh, gods! I was… I was so scared…” She kissed his cheek.

Percy flinched at the gentle touch as his mind came back online. “... Mama, I…”

“I know,” Sally cut in. “You’re in a lot of pain.”

“... Is it okay if I go to Montauk?” Percy cut in. “I need some… I need some time to think.”

“... If you can get there on your own, yes. Paul needs the car for work still.”

“Yeah. I’ll put Grover and Annabeth on Mrs. O’Leary and we’ll go together,” Percy mumbled. 

“You’re not worried about…?” 

“Nah. We’re on spring break. We have a whole week. I’ll be back before then,” Percy mumbled. “Besides, I’m a second-semester senior. Nothing I do matters.”

Sally sighed. “I’m just glad you’re gonna graduate.”

Percy nodded. “... Of course.”

Sally kept on chattering the entire ride, but Percy had stopped listening. Percy loved her, he did, but it was almost impossible to focus on everything she said, especially when his mind was screaming _You’re no good you’re no good you’re no good_ at him constantly. 

Finally, they arrived back at the apartment. Percy barely registered the walk upstairs. He was in the car and next thing he realized Paul was hugging him. “Dammit, Percy, you scared the hell out of us.”

“... I’m gonna go to Montauk,” Percy mumbled. 

“Why? Just to get some time to yourself?” Paul pulled away. 

“... I need to think about some things.”

“Can I come with you?” A feminine voice. Annabeth. “I’ve… I’ve never been there, and I want to… I want to go.”

“... Of course,” Percy mumbled. “Do what you do.” He stumbled into his bedroom and threw a few spare sets of clothes into a backpack, watching as Annabeth did the same. As soon as they were all packed, Percy hailed Mrs. O’Leary and they shadow-traveled to the Montauk Beach house. Mrs. O’Leary ran off as soon as everyone was off her back. _I guess she doesn’t like the beach very much,_ Percy thought. _Makes sense for an Underworld creature._

Annabeth eyed the house. “... It’s a bit lopsided.”

“Yeah. It’s a billion years old,” Percy sighed. “You’re welcome to go inside if you want. It’s perfectly safe, if something collapses it’s only some ceiling materials falling in.”

“You’re not going in?”

Percy sighed. “... I don’t know.”

“... Okay. Where do I put the…”

“Just in the living room. It’s literally only four rooms. You won’t get lost. Oh, and take this,” Percy said, giving her a can of bug spray. “We’ve been gone for a million years, there might be cobwebs.”

Annabeth nodded grimly, stepping inside. “... All right, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy turned to Grover. “Would you go with her? Just in case?”

“Sure. You want me to take your backpack?” Grover asked. 

“That would be awesome of you, thanks,” Percy responded. Grover took the backpack and went into the little cabin, leaving Percy alone with his thoughts. _What a jackass you are. Sitting there on your fat fucking ass while Jason fights for his life in YOUR ELEMENT. Fucking jerk. Why does anyone like you?_

Percy walked behind the house to the water. It was a calm day, almost no wind, and the waves were tiny. It was so unlike his emotions that Percy almost cursed it. He flopped down in the sand, pleasantly warm against his back on that spring day. He looked at the sky.

It was perfectly clear.

That stung like another slap. _Why is it so clear? Is Zeus not in mourning? Jason was his only son. Why is it so clear and bright? Is Zeus that much of a jerk? He should know that nothing should be beautiful right now. His son is dead. A good man is dead._

 _He wasn’t even a man yet. He was sixteen fucking years old. He was younger than me. He hadn’t even finished high school. He never_ will _finish high school. He’ll never graduate. He’ll never go to college. He’ll never get married. I’ll grow up and go to college and get married and have kids and he’ll still be that same sixteen year old boy with the puppylike grin and the kind face. Oh, gods, gods._

_I could have saved him._

Percy bit back a sob. He sat up, wading knee-deep into the water. It was cold, it was always cold and the chill was almost painful, the only warmth came from the hot tears on his cheek--when had he started crying? The tears dripped down and joined in the rest of the salt water, melding seamlessly, as if they had never existed at all. _How ironic. Something can be so bright, so alive, so real, so_ there _one moment and then the next moment it’s just gone. Disappeared. Dear gods, don’t let Jason disappear. Don’t let his memory die. Please, let him be remembered. Please. Don’t let his death be his end. Oh, gods, I’m so pathetic, please, please…_

 _I could have saved him. That’s what you guys are gonna say, right? That I could have saved him. And you’re right. I should have saved him. I should have._ Percy clutched Riptide, uncapping it, feeling the weight of it in his hand. _You know, you could just go to where he is. You could kill yourself. Just fucking drive Riptide through your heart. Fourth and fifth ribs, a little to the left, just like Luke showed you when he was training you on how to use your sword. Gods know you deserve it. And then if you botch it, you’ll be in horrible pain for a long time, which you also deserve. So it’s a win-win, really._

“... Percy?” 

Percy jumped. It was Grover. He waded back out of the water. “What’s happening? How’s Annabeth?”

“She’s fine. It’s you I’m worried about.” Grover shifted his feet. “... You do… you do realize that… that the empathy link is still… still active, right?”

Percy hung his head. “... Look, man, I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you feel my… feel my grief.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Grover responded. “That’s natural. Percy, I… you were literally thinking that… that you wanted to kill yourself.”

“And how is that relevant? Why does it matter? Grover, Jason’s _dead!”_ Percy’s voice crescendoed into a shout. “Am I not allowed to be sad?”

“Of course you’re allowed to be sad, Percy,” Grover soothed. “I just don’t want you to be hurting yourself.”

“Fuck that!” Percy shouted. “I could have saved him! Grover, I could have saved him! If I had been there, I could have saved him! He’s dead because I spurned Apollo and wouldn’t help him, and so I wasn’t there at the end! And you know what? Maybe I fucking deserve to die for all of that! _Maybe I fucking deserve it!”_

Grover watched speechlessly as Percy collapsed to his knees, exhausted. “... Forget it,” Percy whimpered. “... It doesn’t matter.”

Grover saw Annabeth come flying out of the cabin, falling to her knees, grabbing Percy in a tight hug. She was sobbing uncontrollably. “Pe-r-cy…!”

“... Umsorry,” Percy mumbled. He was too tired to react properly. _You should have done it when you had the chance, pussy._

Annabeth whimpered. “... I lo-ove you,” she sobbed. “I lo-ove yo-ou. Don’ lea-eave me. Ple-ease!”

Percy slowly raised his arms. Why was she so upset? It’s not like he was irreplaceable. He put his arms around her tenderly, his hands shaking as they clutched her tee shirt. “... I’m sorry.”

Annabeth pulled away, staring into his eyes. She was scowling, tears were leaking down her cheeks. Her face was red. “... Don’t you _fucking dare_ leave me, okay? Don’t you _fucking dare!_ We.. we’ve been through too much together for you to give up now!”

Percy sniffled. His sinuses stung, his eyes welled a fresh round of tears. “... I told you I’m sorry.”

Annabeth shook her head, clinging to him once more with her face buried in his shoulder. She wished that somehow she could squeeze all of the bad thoughts out of him, take away all of his self-destructive ideas and replace them with soft, happy ones, ones that told him _stay with her, stay with her, stay with her, she’ll save you, she’ll make it okay._ But it wasn’t okay, and her tight embrace hadn’t stopped Percy’s chest from jerking, his tears from leaking out and into her shirt. Her eyes stung and she bit her lip, trying to stifle her own tears but ultimately failing. Her tears rained into Percy’s shoulder, every drop mirroring the ones Percy shed into hers as they rocked back and forth. 

She smelled moist goat and felt Grover wrap his arms around them. Her heart filled with gratitude at the touch, it was welcome. She leaned into his touch and felt Percy doing the same. They both rested their heads on Grover’s shoulders and he somehow held them both close, their limbs tangled, their foreheads pressed together as they cried themselves out, slowly, agony pressed on their insides and there wasn’t enough water in either of their bodies for them to cry enough tears to feel better. Grover felt Percy’s agony through the empathy link, a dull, pulsing ache in his chest. He would have given anything to bear it in Percy’s place, in Annabeth’s place, these were his best friends and they were crying and it was wrong, it was so wrong…

Finally, Percy raised his head. His green irises stood out stunningly from the lake of bloodshot pink in which they rested. “... I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a problem,” Grover replied. “We were just worried… we were just worried about you, that’s all.”

“... I’m sorry,” Percy sighed. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It just… it just hurts so much.”

“I know,” Grover murmured. “I know.”

Annabeth raised her head from the safety of Grover and Percy’s shoulders. “Percy, do you… do you really want to… want to die?”

Percy was silent for a long time. He didn’t know how to tell the truth without terrifying her. “... I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t know.”

“He’s in pain. He’s saying things he doesn’t mean because he’s in pain,” Grover soothed. “He’s not actually going to kill himself.”

Percy didn’t have the heart to tell them how close he’d come. He pulled out of their arms, feeling like he was breaching through water, coming from a warm safe hazy place into a bright cold clarity that almost felt unreal. “... Let’s go inside. I’m tired.”

Grover nodded. He helped them up and pulled them inside, Percy recapping Riptide. Percy pulled out the sofa bed he usually slept on and flopped down on the bare mattress, not bothering to dress the mattress or get a blanket. Annabeth’s phone rang-- “I’ve gotta take this”-- and she stepped back outside.

Grover sat down next to Percy. “... How are you holding up?”

“... I want to die,” Percy responded.

“Thought you did,” Grover sighed. He patted Percy’s shoulder. “... Just know that… it’s not your fault, okay? Jason’s death wasn’t your fault. Don’t hurt yourself for it.”

“... I know, but… I just wish… I wish I could have been there. Stopped it. I told you I would have given my life for the guy. And I…” His voice broke, his gaze went fuzzy and his lip trembled. 

“And you?” Grover asked gently.

“... and I kind of wish I had.”

“... I know,” Grover murmured. “And that hurt’s gonna stay there for a long time, I think.”

Percy sniffled. “... I wish he were here.”

“... I know,” Grover murmured. “I know.

“Believe me, I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all read MCGA, you'll remember that Magnus calls Annabeth towards the end of Ship of the Dead and says that she sounded like she had been crying. That was the call Annabeth took. I've thought basically since the release of TBM that Rick meant for Annabeth's crying to be because of Jason's death.  
> Also, I really didn't know how to end this one. Percy's so deep in grief that it would take literal years for him to really feel better. Annabeth's in the same boat. So I just ended it in a little bit of soft Percy/Grover friendship.


	56. Caleo- My Babe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo comes back to the Waystation from New Rome with bad news, deeply upset. Calypso helps him feel a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's slightly less brutally sad than the last one. It's not happy, but it is slightly less sad. A lot of you told me that the last drabble made you cry. While I apologize for upsetting you, I'm also not sorry because it meant that the drabble was well written.  
> TL,DR: Sorry, not sorry.

_ Thump! _

Calypso started. She stared at the ceiling of her room in the Waystation.  _ What the hell was that? Ugh, I should go check.  _ She stood up, rubbing the pins and needles out of her legs, and started for the rooftop gardens, where she thought the sound had come from. She was there in a second. Her eyes fell on a familiar gigantic bronze figure. “Festus? Where’s Leo?” She ran to Festus’s side. 

Festus turned his head and clicked out a series of squeaks that Calypso couldn’t understand. For a second, she thought he almost sounded sad. Festus gestured over one of the rows of plants.  _ Fuck it. I’ll follow his lead.  _ She walked around the side of the row. Leo was sitting on the edge of the roof, hidden somewhat by the row. “Leo! You’re back!”

Leo nodded. “... I’m back.”

Calypso immediately noticed how empty his eyes looked. “... Are you okay? Did something… did something bad happen?”

A tear tracked down Leo’s cheek, creating a clean spot in Leo’s perpetual layer of dirt. “... You remember my… I told you about… my man Jason?”

Calypso sat down next to him and brushed the tear off his cheek. “I do.”

“... Calypso, he…” Leo paused and took a deep breath, wiping his eyes on his shirt. “... he’s dead.”

Calypso put her arm around Leo’s waist. “... Oh, gods, I’m sorry. I know… I know you really cared about him. I’m so sorry.”

Leo leaned heavily against Calypso. “... I loved that guy.” Tears tracked down his cheeks and fell onto his jeans. “... It hurts, Cal, it hurts real bad.”

“Of course,” Calypso murmured. “Of course it hurts. He was your best friend.” Calypso sighed. “You must be in agony.”

Leo nodded. Calypso pulled him into a real hug, snuggling him against her chest. He buried his face in her shoulder. Leo didn’t smell all that good, he’d clearly been travelling for a very long time with no shower, but Calypso held him anyway. It would have been too agonizing for him if she were to deny him anything. “I… Cal, I just… it hurts.”  _ He was my best friend. He was by my side when no one else was. He treated me like a friend even when I didn’t deserve it, even when I was being selfish, even when I was locked away in my room and not talking to anyone. He always treated me like a friend. I… I would have done anything for him.  _

“I know,” Calypso whispered. “I know it hurts. I know.”

“It’s so bad, Cal.” Leo’s voice broke. He was trembling.

“... I’ve got you,” she murmured. “I’ve got you. Let it out. It’ll only hurt you worse if you keep it in. I’ve got you.”

Leo didn’t respond. He made a barely human noise, something like a teakettle going off, and then he collapsed into sobs, sobs that wracked his body and dominated his being. Calypso cradled him, her soft caramel hair trailing over him as she leaned in. “... I’m… so-orry, Ca-al, I… I…”

“Shh,” Calypso soothed, kissing his neck. “It’s okay. Don’t apologize. I want you to let it out. I just told you.”

“... I sti-ill fee-eel bad,” he hiccuped. 

“Don’t,” Calypso whispered. “You already feel bad enough because of Jason. I don’t want you to hurt because of anything I’m doing.”

“... It hu-urts,” Leo hiccuped. “... It hu-urts so bad.”

Calypso didn’t say any more. She held him as his chest heaved and jerked, as tears rained down into her shirt, as he clung to her like she could save him.  _ I want to help. I love him, I care about him, I do, but… I don’t know how to help. I wish I could help him. I want to save him from this pain. Oh, baby, baby Leo.  _ “My babe,” she whispered. “My babe. Oh, gods, my babe.”

“Ca-al,” he whimpered, his voice hitching with his gasps. “Ca-al.”

Calypso rubbed his back in what she hoped was a soothing manner. “I love you, okay? I want to help. I want to know if there’s anything I can do.”

“Yo-ou ca-an’t bri-ing him ba-ack,” Leo hiccuped. “You ca-an’t.”

Calypso squeezed him tighter, so tightly she thought that if she were any stronger she’d break his ribs. She didn’t know what to say.  _ I want to comfort you. I do. I love you. I’d do anything to make you feel better. Oh, my babe, I want to take it all away. I want to take the pain away. Oh, please, please.  _ Calypso put a trail of kisses down his neck, rocking him back and forth.

“... I wish I could cuddle you,” Leo sniffled suddenly.

“We are cuddling, babe.” 

“No, I mean… I want to be in a real bed with you.” Leo’s voice trembled.

Calypso laughed. “I think Jo and Em might have some issues with that. But I’m sure they’d understand if we were on a couch in a common room. No one bangs in a common room.”

Leo nodded. 

“... Do you want to go inside?” Calypso murmured.

Leo nodded again.

Calypso helped him to his feet. She held him around his waist and he leaned heavily on her, his legs shaking as they walked inside. Jo greeted them with a smile. “Leo! You’re back!” 

“He is,” Calypso agreed. “But… something really bad happened. Jo, his best friend is dead.”

Jo’s face fell. “Oh, dear. I’m so sorry.” She gave his shoulder an awkward pat. “I can see it in his face, he’s not holding up well.”

“He’s not,” Calypso replied. Leo silently shook his head in agreement. “We were wondering if he and I could sit on a couch somewhere. He’s really tired, but he doesn’t want to be alone.”

Jo shrugged. “Well, I’m not stopping you. Put him down in the living room. Keep the door open. I’ll be in my workshop if anything goes wrong. Not that it would, he’s a good kid, but you can’t be too careful.”

Calypso nodded. “Will do.” She helped him to the living room and lay him down on the couch. He flopped down, closing his eyes. Calypso sat down as well, pulling his head into her lap, stroking his cheek. 

Leo buried his face in her soft thigh. “... He was one of my best friends,” he sniffled. “... I only had, like, one or two other friends.”

Calypso stroked his hair. “... I’m still here for you, babe. I’m still here.”

“... I know,” Leo squeaked. “... But he isn’t.”

Calypso didn’t know what to say. She stroked Leo’s hair, running her fingernails over his scalp. She could hear him sniffling softly, tears ran into her shorts, small irregular marks darkening the fabric. She closed her eyes, focusing only on the weight of Leo’s head against her thighs. “... I’m sorry, my babe.” 

Leo only shook his head. “... Do you think… do you think it’ll ever… stop hurting?”

“... I don’t know,” Calypso whispered, leaning in to put a kiss on his neck. “I don’t know. But… what I do know is that I’ll be here for you. Through all of it. Through all the pain. Okay?”

Leo nodded. “... I love you, okay? I do.”

Calypso blushed deeply. “... I… thanks, babe. I… I love you too.” 

There was a long pause. Leo seemed deep in thought. Finally, he spoke. “... I guess it’s like… I guess it’s like… if you break something only a little, you can fix it really easily, but if you break something really bad, then it takes a long time to fix, and even then it might… might never be the same.” He paused, rolling onto his back to face Calypso. His fiery amber eyes met Calypso’s. “... That sounded better in my head.”

“Bet it did,” Calypso sighed. 

“... I’m sorry. I know you hate my metaphors.”

“I don’t  _ understand _ them,” Calypso complained. “I don’t know enough about machines or fixing things to understand them.”

“I could teach you.” Leo’s eyes were bright, brighter than they’d been since he’d gotten home.

Calypso laughed. “... Why not? I’ll do it to humor you.”

Leo smiled up at her, although his eyes were still red and wet. “Thank you so much, Cal. It means a lot when you take an interest in the things I like.”

Calypso kissed him, a soft brush over his lips. “Of course. But this means that I get to teach you how to sew.”

Leo blushed. “I… uh… sure.”

“Why are you blushing? Is sewing too much of a feminine art for you?” Calypso teased.

“No! No, it’s not,” Leo protested. “I just… I don’t want to get made fun of.”

Calypso tweaked his nose. “You’re a chad.”

“I consider myself more of a simp, but okay,” Leo sighed. 

Calypso laughed, a bright sound that sounded like little bells. “Oh, gods, Valdez. You’re impossible.”

“Thanks, my sexy  _ mamacita.  _ I try.”

Calypso snorted. “Well, at least you’re feeling better.”

Leo sighed. “... Somewhat. I mean, it… it still hurts. It still hurts a lot.”

“I know,” Calypso sighed, putting a kiss on his forehead like a blessing. “I know. But… I’m here for you, okay? And Jo and Em are too, even though they’re awkward about it. You’re not hurting alone. I promise. And Leo, that’s  _ precious.  _ You have no idea how important togetherness is when you’re sad. Take it from me.”

“... No, I trust you,” Leo murmured. “And I… I’m glad you’re with me.”

“And I’m glad to be with you,” Calypso responded. “I love you, okay, my babe?”

Leo smiled. The gratitude was clear in his face. “I love you too, sexy  _ mamacita.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if I got some parts of the Waystation wrong or if I botched Jo's character. I haven't read TDP since it came out about three years ago. Idk why, it had some really soft Megpollo content and I'm a sucker for that. Also Leo. Leo is actually one of my favorite characters, but I don't write about him nearly as much as I should. Also, I actually like Caleo (unpopular PJO opinion right there) and I'm glad they're working on their relationship. I think we need more soft Caleo content in the fandom.


	57. Implied Megpollo- Sixteen, Not Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megpollo nightmare recovery. AKA I torture Meg for absolutely no reason at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a few days since I've written anything and that really didn't feel right, so I jammed this out in ~45 minutes to an hour and it made me feel better. The only idea that I had was soft Megpollo nightmare recovery content. So here it is.

Meg has the same nightmare every night.

Yanked from her father’s arms, thrown down, shots ring out and blood spatters on the concrete. She sobs, a hand keeps her from falling to her knees-- “don’t make the Beast come out”-- and shoves her into a car, into darkness. She screams and screams before _he_ tapes her mouth-- “what did I say? You really _aren’t_ very bright”-- twists her arm and burns the back of her hand, her tender child’s hand, with a fireplace lighter. She whimpers as the skin begins to blister an angry red, the pain feels almost unreal, her young mind cannot process. She does not dare to scream. Small tears still fall on her cheeks as he drags her inside, she’s tied up, although it’s barely necessary. She is so small. He picks up the lighter and burns her big toes, the pain is searing, she can’t describe it. She sobs and sobs. 

He leaves then, another takes his place, an older boy. He cuts her free-- “ _he_ said to see what you can do”-- and puts swords in her hands, two golden sickles. A gift, from _him_ to her. She doesn’t know how to use them. She can barely lift them. He jumps, impales, she barely sees the blood spatter across her chest before her screams wake her, sobbing and sobbing, nausea churns in her gut but she can’t release vomit, she _can’t,_ it would make her _bad,_ and when Meg is a bad girl, bad things happen. Always.

She takes a breath and fumbles for her glasses in the dim light of Percy Jackson’s New Rome apartment. Putting them on, she looks at her hands, her feet, her chest. She is whole, well, unburned. Sixteen. Not five. She isn’t that little girl anymore, not in body. Her chest is that of an adult and her thighs are rounded, not bony. Her eyes are dark and sharp, not soft and wide. But her face is still round. Her cheeks are still pudgy. 

And the space under her chin still bears the mark of the Beast. 

Tears cloud her eyes, she takes off her glasses again, burying her face in the safety of the pillow. A soft touch on her back makes her start, she cringes before reminding herself that _he_ is gone, unable to hurt her anymore. She turns over, facing the figure, a man’s dark curls glow with a soft golden light. “Polly…?”

“Meg,” Apollo soothes. Gods, she would have given anything to hear that voice forever, sit by his side into eternity and listen to him speak, sing, his voice is a soft golden light and she is a flower trying to grow in a shadowy patch of concrete, deprived, thirsting, cold. “Are you all right?”

Meg wants to lie, she does, but she knows that he is the _god_ of the truth and would see through her facade, her trembling lip, her reddened eyes. He is the god of healing, he can see the nausea churning in her middle, the squishing sensation at her core. “... Not… not really.”

He sits next to her on the bed, stroking fingers through her hair, raven-black rivers run over holy flesh, bones of gold. “Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. May I… may I come closer?”

Meg nods. Apollo lies down next to her, wrapping arms around her, holding tight. His warmth runs into her back, so human and sweet that Meg has to remind herself that it’s the warmth of the sun, a deity, not a soft, loving friend who she kisses on the lips sometimes. He puts a hand on her stomach and her nausea eases up, the fist that squishes her stomach releases its sweaty, quivering grip and her muscles relax. “... Thank you,” she manages. 

“You’re welcome.” He kisses her head, a common gesture between them. 

She soaks up the touch like a sponge, wanting, she takes his hand and moves it to her chest. The warmth of his hand is like its own little heaven and she holds that warmth as tears sting at her eyes, fall into her pillow, a warm rain. Apollo holds her a little closer, snuggling her tight, and she wonders if her tears are really that loud when they fall, if the tremors of her chest are really that violent. “... I’m sorry,” she whispers. “... I didn’t mean to… to.”

“Don’t apologize,” Apollo murmurs. She feels him press his lips into her hair once more. “Crying helps if you’re really hurting.”

Meg nods. She turns, burying her face in his chest, Apollo lets her move. The cloth of his shirt is soft against her cheek, his warmth flows through his shirt and floods her body. The fear and pain ease the closer she cuddles, he holds her as tightly as he can without breaking her body, he is reminded suddenly of how breakable she is. She seemed so immense and mighty to him when he was mortal. 

He moves one hand and strokes her hair as gently as possible.

Relief comes slowly, Meg cries and cries into Apollo’s warmth until the icy grip on her small little soul eases up, Apollo’s warmth reaches her heart and she finally relaxes enough to close her eyes. _He_ is gone, slain. Apollo is here, now, cradling her, holding her tight, warming her body and heart until she can’t feel anything else but warmth and tiredness. Her body's so heavy. 

“... Don’t leave, please,” Meg whispers.

“I won’t,” Apollo says. “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep.”

Meg looks up, looks up into irises of soft blue, specked with fiery gold. “... Thanks,” she murmurs as she pulls away, leaning back into his chest, drifting into somewhere far from reality.

“You’re welcome,” Apollo whispers, holding her tight. “... Sleep well, dearest Meg.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm totally on the Meg McCaffrey protection squad. Despite the fact that she cries in everything I write. 
> 
> Also, I would absolutely, as they say, "bend Apollo over a table and take him to Frisco Town."
> 
> Edit 9/12/20: I'm editing out the actual (not teasing, not implied) megpollo stuff from this doc because it's no longer a bandwagon I'm on. I don't think anyone will care, but if someone out there did, then sorry.


	58. Non-shippy- Distilled Down (a life, into a few short words)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth has a little ritual that she does every year for Jason's death. Thalia accidentally interrupts it.   
> As it turns out, it's a good thing Annabeth was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tyrant's Tomb and Burning Maze spoilers. Also swearing. Because Annabeth's internal monologue is 100% the word "fuck."

“And who are these for, sweetie? A special someone?” 

Annabeth gave a vague smile to the lady behind the counter in the flower shop. “... You could say that, I suppose.”

“Ooh, they’re so lucky,” she cooed. “You must make them so happy.”

Annabeth didn’t know how to respond. “... Sure,” she responded, quickly paying for the flowers and leaving. She walked through New Rome, the warmish California breeze tousling her hair. It was mid-March and the air smelled almost too sweet. She held the flower box a little closer. Her mind focused in on the slap of her feet on the ground, the vibrations from the contact echoing through her body. Her legs felt heavy, rubbery. She got a sudden mental image of herself tripping, the flower box flying out of her arms, breaking on the concrete, all the little blooms flying out around her, broken little rounds of bright color. It made her shudder to think of it.

It seemed like a million years before she arrived at the gates of the cemetery. She took a deep breath. She’d done this every year and it hadn’t ever gotten any easier. She remembered the first time she’d done it. Percy had come along too, but he’d cried so hard that Annabeth had thought that maybe in the future she’d do it alone. Jason deserved the flowers, not the crazed bawling of his close friend and cousin. She walked towards the peaceful, remote corner of the cemetery where he was buried, approaching from behind a tree. 

A slim figure in a silver jacket was sprawled on the cold ground next to the grave, an arm draped over its face.

Annabeth started.  _ Is that another corpse? Did somebody dump a body in the graveyard and hope to fuck that whoever found it would think that it was some poor soul whose eternal rest was broken by an earthquake? That’s such a shitty thing to do.  _ She tiptoed closer. Her heart skipped a beat and she almost tripped.  _ Oh, fuck. That’s  _ Thalia.  _ Oh, gods. Oh, gods.  _ She placed the flowers on the grave and shook Thalia’s shoulder. “Thalia! Are you okay?”

Thalia looked up. Her eyes were so puffy she couldn’t open them all the way. “... Annabeth?” she rasped.

“Yeah. It’s me. I… I… I saw you just lying here and I… I didn’t know if you were hurt or sick or… I don’t know,” Annabeth sighed helplessly.

Thalia sat up. “How do you think I am, Annie?”

Annabeth was quiet for a long time. “... Bad.”

Thalia nodded. “Yeah.” Her voice broke. “Bad.”

Annabeth wanted to reach out and hand-feed her ambrosia. Her eyes were so red. “... Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“... No, I… I don’t know. I need… I need…”

Annabeth held out her arms. “... C’mere.”

Thalia dizzily flopped into Annabeth’s arms, pressing her face into her shoulder. Annabeth held her close, pulling her into a real sitting position, burying her face in her jacket. She took a deep breath, taking in Thalia’s smell of ozone. “... ‘M sorry,” Annabeth murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“... It isn’t your fault.” Thalia’s voice broke. 

Annabeth felt her tears begin to drip into her shoulder.  _ I can’t begin to comprehend how she must feel. I’ve never had any little siblings, or none I was super close with. Oh, gods, she must be dying inside. It’s been years and I can still feel that pain radiating off of her. Gods, gods. _ She felt her own tears begin to fall into Thalia’s jacket, her own grief began to well back up inside, watered by the two or so years that had passed but not quite gone. The wound on her heart still sometimes dripped when she remembered Jason, his big blue eyes, his puppylike grin. She couldn’t imagine how badly Thalia’s heart hurt. 

Annabeth blinked back her own tears and stroked Thalia’s hair, ruffling the short shag between her fingers. Thalia was leaning against her with the whole of her body weight. It was as if there was no fight left inside her, nothing that could force her body to move, hold itself. Annabeth knew that if she stopped holding her, if she moved away, then she would flop bonelessly into the same corpselike position she was in before. Annabeth wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t found her, if Thalia would have laid there until she started growing mushrooms. She imagined a little ecosystem sprouting from her body, mushrooms lacing her side, vines eating her breast, flowers blooming out of her mouth, eyes, ears. Her body would be consumed and she would lay by her brother. 

Annabeth cupped her head with her hand, the same softly protective gesture Percy always used on her when she was sad. She curled her a little tighter, gripping the back of her jacket to keep her upright. Annabeth was struck by how weak she was, the tears fell silently, automatically. She wasn’t sobbing, the tears seemed to bleed from her like her eyes were wounds, shedding liquid on their own volition. Annabeth got the sense that she couldn’t help them. That she couldn’t even sit up. 

She held her a little tighter.

Finally, Annabeth heard footsteps behind them. “... You shouldn’t stay here,” a husky female voice murmured. “It won’t help.”

Thalia found the strength inside her to raise her head. A tall woman stood there, her dark hair blowing in the wind, a silver circlet clinging to her crown braids. “... Lady Artemis.”

“Sister,” Artemis greeted, seating herself next to the girls. “Annabeth.”

“Lady Artemis,” Annabeth greeted. “... I apologize for this sorry sight. Her… her…”

“I know,” Artemis interrupted. “I know what’s happening. And…” She shifted, almost as if she were afraid of offending Annabeth. “... I’ve come to take her home.”

Annabeth nodded. “... Thalia? Are you… are you okay to… to go home?”

Thalia held Annabeth with more strength than Annabeth thought she had. “... Take care of yourself, okay? I don’t want… I don’t want…” She leaned out of Annabeth’s arms just enough to put a kiss on Jason’s tombstone, the stone rough and cold against her lips. 

“I know,” Annabeth said solemnly. She rolled to her feet, pulling Thalia up as well. 

Artemis held out her arms. “Give her here. I can hold her up.”

“I know you can,” Annabeth replied. 

Artemis put an arm around Thalia’s waist and Annabeth let go, watching as Thalia leaned heavily against her. Thalia gave her one last long look, her eyes glazed over, her lips slightly parted. A tear still hung on her cheek. “... Goodbye, Annie. Tell Percy I said hi.”

Annabeth nodded. “Will do. Tell Reyna I said hi as well.”

Thalia nodded before turning and letting Artemis lead her away by her waist. “... Okay.” She closed her eyes, not looking back at Annabeth, at Jason’s grave. She barely registered as Artemis dragged her into the bed of Reyna’s truck, which had been parked nearby. Reyna hadn’t wanted to enter the cemetery. Artemis said something to Reyna, what it was, she didn’t know. She was only focused on the memory of the gray stone with Jason’s name on it, the summary of his accomplishments listed below, an entire human being distilled into a sentence, reduced to a few short words. It made Thalia’s heart hurt. 

She tried to focus on Artemis’s hands, on the rumble of the road beneath them, on anything else but the raw rotten sting of the wound in her chest. Artemis’s hands carded through her hair, over her back, gentle as anything, soft as a feather. “... It is going to be okay, my sister,” Artemis soothed, stroking her gently, like petting a cat. 

“No it won’t,” Thalia sobbed, finding the strength to cry out somehow, finally. “No it won’t. My brother is dead! That’s not… that’s  _ not _ okay! That’s not  _ o-fucking-kay!  _ Gods damn it!” She hit Artemis as hard as she could.

Artemis didn’t even flinch. “Please do not hit me. I know you’re hurt, but please do not hit me.”

“It’s not okay,” Thalia whimpered. “It’s not okay.”

“... It’s not okay,” Artemis murmured. “It’s not okay. I understand. I’m sorry.”

Thalia nodded. “It’s never gonna be okay.” Her voice broke.

The rest of the ride was silent. Artemis continued to mindlessly pet Thalia’s hair. Thalia relaxed into the touch, letting her aching eyes fall closed, letting her body melt against Artemis’s. After an amount of time that felt either too long or too short, Thalia couldn’t tell, she felt them stop moving. Artemis carried Thalia from the truck and walked them a short distance to where the Huntresses were camped out. “Thalia?” 

Thalia flinched at Reyna’s sudden voice. “... What?” she rasped.

“... I’m sorry.”

Thalia didn’t reply. She didn’t know what to say. She heard Reyna walk away, begin talking to someone else. She didn’t care enough to listen. She didn’t even want to hear her voice. Thalia didn’t dislike her, the two girls were actually quite close, but Thalia couldn’t handle hearing her voice at that point. It was too loud, too piercing. Thalia wanted to curl up and sleep somewhere quiet.

She felt Artemis lay her down in a sleeping bag. She opened her eyes slightly. She was alone in a tent, in  _ her  _ private commander’s tent. “... My lady,” Thalia croaked hoarsely. 

“Yes, my sister?” Artemis sat down next to her on her sleeping bag. 

“... Stay,” Thalia begged. “Please, stay. I don’t… I don’t want to be alone.”

Artemis nodded. She helped zip Thalia into her sleeping bag, pulling off her shoes and coat. She lay down next to her, putting her head on the pillow, putting an arm around her. Thalia buried her head in her chest. Artemis stroked her hair some more, touching it softly, her hand was painfully tender. It almost felt wrong for a goddess’s hand to be so soft and gentle, Thalia fully expected a silver dagger to bury into her back at any moment, her punishment for grieving so deeply for a man. She tried not to think about it, trying to find a heartbeat in Artemis’s chest instead, relaxing into her arms when she felt the soft vibrations on her cheek. “... Thank you, my lady,” Thalia whispered. “... Thank you. I… I…”  _ “I love you?” No, that’s wrong. You can’t say that to the goddess of virgins.  _ “... I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it, my sister,” Artemis whispered. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

Thalia nodded. She didn’t have the strength in her to respond. She wrapped an arm around Artemis’s waist, pushing it out of her sleeping bag and holding her in return, slowly like she was coming out of water. She hadn’t realized she’d had an arm in front of her, between her and Artemis, almost like she had been protecting herself from her-- why? Artemis loved her girls. She’d never do anything to hurt any of them. 

“You’re holding me,” Artemis said suddenly. “You weren’t doing that before.”

Thalia nodded. “... Yeah, I… I wanted to… be closer.”

Artemis nodded. “... That’s okay,” she murmured. “... Cuddle as close as you like.”

They held each other a while longer. Thalia’s mind slowly went quiet, blank, her tumultuous emotions evened out somewhat, Artemis’s arms provided some blessed relief. Finally, Artemis raised her head, sniffing the air. “... They’re making dinner.”

“... I don’t know,” Thalia whimpered, not knowing what to say. She couldn’t smell anything. Her nose was too stuffy.

“... You should eat,” Artemis murmured, pushing herself up on her elbow, letting her hair fall over Thalia. “I think it would be good for you.”

“... I… I’m not hungry,” Thalia sniffled. 

“I think you should try to keep something down. Even if it’s only a bread roll.” Artemis stroked her cheek with a warm and callused hand. “I think it would help.”

Thalia dried her eyes and face on her tee shirt. “... I… I can keep down a bread roll, sure.”

“That’s good, my sister.” Artemis stood up, helping Thalia to her feet. “Now come on. Let’s go get you fed and happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artemis uses food as comfort. In her, food kind of serves the purpose that romantic love serves for others. Also parental love. Because let's be honest, Artemis may be Zeus's favorite kid, but he probably still treats her like crap.   
> Also, I always thought that Reyna joining the Hunt was a little out of character. Mainly because her entire character arc is about wanting to find love. But that's just me.


	59. Implied Megpollo- Is That Why He's Such A Dick?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg finds out why Dionysus is such a jerk. The answer makes her sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of alcohol withdrawal and (sort of) child abuse. Does it count as child abuse if the child is grown and also a deity?

“You’re doing so well, Meg,” Apollo cooed, laying his large hand over her small one. She was sitting on the red velvet bench of Apollo’s piano, enraged tears pricking at her eyes. He had been giving her a lesson, but it hadn’t been going well. “Don’t get discouraged. You play beautifully. You’re just having a little bit of trouble with this is all.”

Meg sniffled, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “... I… I’m sorry. I just… I don’t want… I’m sorry.”

“You’re doing fine. Don’t cry.” He hugged her, ruffling her hair.

Meg nodded. She idly pressed a few keys. “... Thanks.”

“See?” Apollo gestured to her hands. “That sounded nice.”

“... Kind of,” Meg shrugged. 

“You don’t think so?”

“Not really.” Meg huffed and played a few more notes. “But I’m glad you like it at least.”

“I do,” Apollo replied. “Here, try the song again.”

“I don’t want to,” Meg groaned. “I’ll just screw it up again.”

“... Maybe you need a break,” Apollo decided. He stood up from where he’d been sitting next to her and crossed the room. It was his bedroom, but it was also his music room and his poetry-writing room and the room where he brought his lovers and about a dozen other things. He flopped into his bed--which was bigger than a king-size--and looked up at the high golden ceiling. “Maybe if you take some time away from the instrument you’ll feel better.”

Meg sighed and lay down on the velvet-cushioned piano bench. “... Maybe.”

Someone knocked on the door. Apollo shot up, flinching. “... Oh, crap.”

“Is that Zeus?” Meg asked.

Apollo could hear the worry in her voice. “... No. His footsteps are louder and his knock is harsher. That’s someone else. You should still hide, though. Just in case it’s Hera or someone.” 

Meg nodded grimly. She crawled under the bed. “Okay. You can open the door now.”

He stood up and opened the door. Meg held her breath and listened. “... Oh, hi.”

“... Apollo.” Was that _Dionysus?_ He sounded different, somehow. Meg couldn’t tell. 

“How are you? Are you okay? If you’re looking for Meg, I’ve got her, she’s safe.”

“... I… I didn’t know she was gone,” Dionysus grumbled. “I… oh, fuck, Apollo. You’ve gotta help me.”

“What’s wrong?” Meg heard their footsteps approaching from behind her, heard the bed squeak above her. Apollo’s freckled feet disappeared from the floor. She guessed he'd laid down. 

“I’m in so much fucking pain, I… goddamn it, I want a fucking… I _need_ a drink, Apollo, I’m gonna… I’m gonna go crazy. I’m actually gonna lose it. The god of madness is gonna lose it.” His voice was shaking.

“Okay. Okay. It’s gonna be okay. Here, come here.” Meg heard the bed squeak some more and saw Dionysus kick off his shoes. She tried to picture Mr. D snuggled into Apollo’s arms, almost in tears. It didn’t really work, she felt her mind run into the end of its imagination. She stopped trying to think of it.

“... Make it stop.” Dionysus’s voice broke. “Please, make it stop.”

 _Oh, crap. He’s actually gonna cry._ Meg’s heart accelerated in her chest. She didn’t know what alcohol withdrawal felt like, but she assumed that if a god was nearly brought to tears by it then it must be torturous. 

“I will,” Apollo whispered. “I will. It’s okay.”

There was a long pause. Meg could hear breathing, but not much else. Finally, her curiosity outweighed her fear of being smited and she peeked up over the side of the bed. Dionysus’s back was to her. He looked younger than normal. More physically fit. Meg couldn’t help but think that he was kind of attractive. _If he can just change his appearance, then why isn’t he attractive like this all the time? I mean, really. If I were a goddess, I’d be the hottest, thiccest lady alive. And I bet I’d also be able to see more than three inches in front of my face unassisted._

Apollo’s fingers were carding through Dionysus’s hair. He opened his eyes slightly. Meg flinched as he spotted her. He shook his head and mouthed the words _get down._

Meg got down. It was only another minute before Meg heard the bed rustle again. “... Thanks,” Dionysus murmured. 

“Always welcome,” Apollo murmured. “I’m glad I could make you feel better.”

“You did. Apollo, I don’t… I honestly don’t know if I could… I think I would have gone crazy from the pain by now if you weren’t… if you weren’t around. I mean… crap, the three months or so that you were mortal were hell.”

“I’d imagine so.” Apollo’s voice sounded gentle.

Meg saw what she guessed to be Dionysus’s feet hit the floor. “... Anyway, Apollo, I’m sorry to bother you. I’ll be going now. You better get that girl back alive, though, you hear? I don’t want to hear Demeter’s bitching if I let my brother get her daughter killed.”

 _She cares about me that much?_ Meg thought.

Apollo laughed. “Of course, of course. Besides, I’ve always returned her intact before, right?”

“Right. Also, don’t get her pregnant. Zeus’ll flip and then you’ll wind up like me.” Meg heard footsteps thud into the distance, heading towards the door. “And trust me, you’d hate that.”

“Hey, at least you weren’t mortal.”

“At least your punishment lasted three months and not fifty years. See you later, brother,” Dionysus finished.

“See you later,” Apollo responded. Meg heard the door close. “You can come back now, Meg.”

Meg crawled out from under the bed. She flopped down next to Apollo, sinking into the expensive plush mattress. “What was that all about?”

“Alcohol withdrawal. Zeus banned him from drinking as a punishment and he… he’s really suffering something terrible. I’ve kind of become his personal medic. He says he has nowhere else to turn,” Apollo sighed. “I feel terrible for him.”

“That’s probably why he’s such a dick,” Meg realized. “If he’s in pain all the time… that must be why he’s always so grumpy and snippy to everyone.”

Apollo nodded. “It’s hard to be nice when you’re in constant physical pain.”

Meg curled up. Apollo’s bed was really comfortable. It made her want to sleep. “... I feel really bad for him now. Holy crap.”

“I think a bunch of us do.” Apollo idly pet Meg’s hair. “But it’s not like there’s anything you can do. It’s kind of hard to speak out against the king of the gods. Even Percy Jackson doesn’t talk crap on him to his face, and Percy Jackson is the most insolent man alive.”

Meg wanted to protest in Percy’s favor, but didn’t know how. “I’m aware.”

“I’m glad. Anyway, I just hope he starts to feel better eventually. Until then, I’m there. I mean, it’s not like I don’t know how he feels.”

Meg nodded, thinking back to Apollo’s tearful recounts of Zeus’s brutal punishments. It made her heart ache. “... It’s good that you’re there for him. He probably needs it.”

Apollo nodded. “Yeah. It’s my pleasure.

“I mean, he’s my brother. I’m the one who gets the brunt of Zeus’s punishments. I owe it to him to make him feel better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a personal headcanon of mine. Dionysus is a jerk because he's in constant pain/discomfort from alcohol withdrawal. Also, Meg and Apollo hang out constantly. To the point where Chiron, Demeter, Percy and Mr. D are concerned. She's bare minimum his closest friend.


	60. Non-shippy-Alone, Sick, Scared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hearth thinks something bad is happening to Magnus. Blitz is skeptical.  
> As it turns out, Hearth is right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had this idea very suddenly in the middle of the night. Wrote it out. Takes place pre-MCGA. No real warnings, but Magnus does have an asthma attack, so if that would upset you don't read. It's not described in great detail, though.

_ You should go check on the kid. _

Hearth’s diffident gesture made Blitz start.  _ The kid? He’s asleep! He’s practically on autopilot.  _

_ I feel like something’s wrong, _ Hearth indicated.  _ Something just doesn’t feel right. _

_ That’s cuz you’re sleeping in the bushes in a park where any damn fool could come out and stab you,  _ Blitz replied. 

_ I’m aware of that. But this feels different. Besides, remember that Magnus is asthmatic. He could literally be asphyxiating right now and we wouldn’t know. And then Freya would kill us, _ Hearth noted. 

Blitz huffed.  _ Fine. You sleep. I’ll go check on him.  _ Blitz rolled to his feet and grabbed a backpack from the nearby brush. He began to walk for the bridge Magnus slept under. It wasn’t far, but he grumbled all the way.  _ Why the hell did Freya make  _ me _ do this? So ridiculous. Anyone else could have done this damn job. Besides, I couldn’t even protect my own father, and he was so much stronger than me. How am I gonna protect this sick skinny kid? He’ll be dead in a week, by the gods… _

Blitz caught sight of Magnus’s sleeping bag as soon as he arrived under the bridge. “Kid?”

Magnus didn’t respond. Blitz could hear his breathing. He was breathing all wrong, wheezing loudly, his chest heaving. He reached a hand for Blitzen.

_ Great. The kid is going down.  _ Blitz pulled the inhaler he’d been given by Freya from his pocket.  _ Hope this fucking works. If he dies, she’ll kill me.  _ He knelt by Magnus’s sleeping bag, sticking the inhaler into his mouth. He was nearly purple in the face. Blitz silently reminded himself to thank Hearth for his intuition.

Magnus gasped, hiccuping. He grabbed Blitz’s coat. “Blitz. Oh, god. Blitz.”

Something shifted in Blitz’s chest. “It’s me, kid.” He tried to make his voice as soothing as possible, ruffling Magnus’s hair. “You breathing a little easier?” 

Magnus nodded. His lip trembled.

Blitz could see tears jeweling in his eyes. “... Are you okay? You look like you’re about to cry.”

Magnus sniffled, unzipping his sleeping bag and sitting up, wiping his face. “... I’m sorry, I… I thought… I thought I was gonna die.”

“Well, you’re not. So don’t cry over it.” Blitz patted his back. “It’s not your time.”

Magnus nodded. Blitz could see tears running over his cheeks, the dim streetlights making the drops sparkle like glass. He patted the tears away with his coat sleeve. “Hey, kid. Don’t cry. It’s all good.” He pulled Magnus into a hug, nesting his head in his shoulder, patting his back.

Magnus clung to Blitz with more strength than Blitz thought he had. “Thank you, Blitz, thank you so much, oh, god, I owe you one. I really do. Thank you so much,” he sobbed. 

“... It’s okay,” Blitz mumbled, not really knowing what to say. “... Don’t cry, kid. It’s all cool.”

“... I’m sorry,” Magnus squeaked. “I… I never meant to be… I never meant to be a problem.”

“... You’re not,” Blitz said numbly. “... I mean, you were gonna die, maybe. Making sure someone doesn’t kick the bucket isn’t a problem.”

Magnus sniffled, nuzzling Blitz’s shoulder for comfort. “... Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, kid. Don’t worry about making it up to me. Just focus on yourself, okay?” Blitz stroked Magnus’s hair, finding it pleasantly soft. 

Magnus relaxed into the feeling of Blitz’s fingers over his scalp. “... Thank you so much, Blitz, you saved my life.”

“As I already said, it’s all fine.”

There was a long silence. Blitz rocked Magnus back and forth, stroking his hair, over his neck, patting his back, cuddling him. Magnus cried and cried, silent tears flowing into Blitz’s jacket. Blitz felt an overwhelming wave of sympathy wash through him. This poor kid. He’d lost his mother, he’d fallen through the cracks in the system and now he was alone and sick and scared and sleeping under a bridge in the freezing cold. 

Blitz held him a little tighter, his heart hurting in empathy. He was reminded suddenly of when he’d found Hearth, cold and shivering and alone amongst a heap of trash. He supposed he just had a weakness for those who needed help, or maybe he just liked being in a caretaker role. He couldn’t tell. All he knew was that Magnus was warm against him, and that his tears still dripped into his coat, a warm rain. And that was the important thing. Magnus was the important thing, now. 

“... Do you want to come back and sleep near me and Hearth tonight?” Blitz asked. 

“... I’ll be okay,” Magnus sniffled. He pulled away, wiping his face on his sleeve. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You won’t be,” Blitz assured. “But if it still makes you more comfortable to stay here, then at least keep the inhaler on you. If you have another attack, it’ll save your life.”

Magnus nodded. He took the inhaler and tucked it down into his sleeping bag. He lay back down, curling up tight. “... Thank you, Blitz. Thanks so much.”

“Always welcome, kid. Always welcome.” 

Magnus sighed, closing his eyes. Blitz resumed petting his hair, gentle stubby fingers carded over pale skin, through dirty hair.  _ Oh, gods, poor kid. Poor, poor kid. Now I know why Freya put me here. This kid needs so much help.  _ He looked down affectionately at Magnus, who was already falling asleep.  _ I’ll help you, kid. I’m here for you. I don’t know what fate has in store, but I’m gonna keep you safe for as long as I can.  _

_ I promise. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blitz has an incredible level of dad energy, really. His dad energy outweighs his "annoyed at mom" energy, which is good.  
> Also, Magnus is a crybaby. This is canon. Somebody really needs to give him a hug.


	61. Percabeth, implied Megpollo- Percy Hugs Whatever You Put In His Arms While He Sleeps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth tells Meg something cute about Percy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That title was longer than the actual story, lol.

“... Does he always hug himself when he sleeps?” Meg asked. She and Annabeth and Percy were sitting in Percy and Annabeth’s bedroom. Annabeth was in their bed, propped up on pillows. Percy was asleep beside her.

“Oh yeah,” Annabeth replied. “He talks, drools, hugs himself. I love him dearly but he’s obnoxious to sleep next to.”

Meg laughed. “Aw. It’s kind of cute, though.”

“You know what’s even cuter?” Annabeth said conspiratorially. 

“What?” Meg replied excitedly, leaning in as if sharing a secret.

“This. If you put something against his chest while he’s sleeping, he’ll hold on to it.” Annabeth picked up a small stuffed Garfield from the foot of their bed and put it against his chest. 

Sure enough, Percy hugged it. “... Annabeth,” he muttered.

“Okay, that is adorable,” Meg laughed. “You’re lucky you get to see him like that all the time.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re dating a god.”

“Apollo is  _ not  _ my boyfriend!” Meg protested. 

“Well, you’re together all the time,” Annabeth protested. 

“Still not my boyfriend,” Meg replied. “You’re still lucky.”

Annabeth shook her head. “I don’t deserve him.”

“Ain’t that what everyone says about their partners?” Meg asked.

“I guess so,” Annabeth shrugged. 

Meg and Annabeth watched as Percy hugged the plushy, burying his face in it. “... Well, you seem to treat him well,” Meg said. 

“... Not always. But I do try,” Annabeth sighed.

Meg nodded. “... Yeah. That’s better than some can say.”

Annabeth nodded. “Of course.” She leaned in and kissed Percy’s cheek. “... You wanna go get some pizza?”

“Sure, let’s go.”


	62. Non-shippy- What's a Ruegard?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank meets some of his Greek half-siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This starts right after chapter 11 ends, when Sherman strikes up a conversation with Frank.  
> Clarisse makes a suicidal joke, mentions of Silena being dead, Jason being dead, Frank's mom being dead. A few ships. All canon ones. Chrisse and Frazel and Sherman x Miranda. Also, rude graffiti on the Ares cabin walls.

“Praetor Zhang?”

The respectful yet commanding voice made Frank turn. It was Sherman Yang, the kid who’d said he was his brother. “Oh, hey, man. What do you need?”

“I… uh…” He scanned Frank’s face. He had dark, piercing eyes and thin lips that were set in a permanent sneer. “... You wanna go for a spar?”

“You want to fight me?” Frank asked. 

Sherman shrugged. “I dunno. Sure. Or we don’t have to. I don’t really care.”

Frank thought of all the things he should be doing instead of messing around with Sherman. Then he turned to Hazel and said “Hey, Hazel, can you inventory the legions for me for Capture the Flag?”

Hazel nodded. “Are you sure you want me to do it? You’re much better at writing things down than I am.”

“If you do it, it’ll be done faster. Sherman wants me to hang out with him now.”

Hazel nodded. “Yeah. I can do it.”

“Great. Thank you so much.” Frank leaned down-- _way_ down, he suddenly noticed-- and kissed her forehead. “I love you. Stay safe.”

Hazel fanned herself. “... I love you too. Stay safe yourself.”

Frank nodded and turned back to Sherman. “Alright. We’re in the clear.”

“Do praetors always kiss each other?” 

“Oh, uh…” Frank laughed. “No. We’re together.”

Sherman nodded. “Okay, man. So do you wanna go for a spar, or what?”

“Honestly? I wanna meet this Clarisse character,” Frank replied. “I mean, I’ve heard so many stories I can’t picture her without horns and fangs.”

“She kinda does have fangs,” Sherman laughed. “Her canines are sharper than normal.”

“Oh gods,” Frank laughed. “What about those…”

“No horns. Not that I know,” Sherman snorted. “But she is… she is terrible. You still wanna meet her?”

Frank shrugged. “I’ve probably met worse.”

“If you had crawled the pits of Tartarus, I’d believe you. But I’ll take you back to the Ares cabin and introduce you two. Follow me.”

Frank followed him. They walked across the camp green, ducking though the barbed wire fencing that surrounded the Ares cabin. “Be careful,” Sherman warned. “This stuff is really sharp. It’ll leave you with stitches in your hands if you’re not careful.”

“Will do,” Frank agreed. He carefully followed Sherman into the cabin. The inside of the cabin reminded Frank of the legion bunkers at Camp Jupiter, simple bunk beds lined the walls, there was a bathroom in the back, some lockers were along the same wall as the bathroom. However, the similarities ended there. The walls had been scribbled on, there was random graffiti on everything. Frank scanned the marks nearest to him. _RUEGARD=LIFE._

“Ellis wrote that,” Sherman grumbled. “He’s a freak with a sister complex and a fetish for lesbians. Don’t worry about him.”

“What’s a Ruegard? How does that tie into him being a freak?”

Sherman shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I’m gonna go get Clarisse. Also, don’t mention that graffiti to her. You seem like a nice guy. I’d hate to see you get electrocuted.”

“Wait, what?” Before Frank could finish, Sherman was gone, leaving Frank alone in the cabin. _… I still don’t know what a Ruegard is. It sounds like a kind of birth protection. Or a hemorrhoid remover._ He sat down on a bench in the cabin, looking back and forth from the threads of his toga to the graffiti that surrounded him. He read a few more. _CHRIS IS A_ ~~_TRAITOR_ ~~ _HERO._ _~~SHERMAN YANG~~ _ ~~_ELLIS WAKEFIELD_ ~~ _~~SHERMAN YANG~~ _ _YOUR MOTHER WATCHES CHILD PRON. ELLIS WAKEFIELD KISSED A GIRL HERE-- AND NO, HER NAME WASN’T “AMANDA”, SHERMAN, YOU FUCK._

Frank snorted. _These guys even fight via graffiti. Dear gods._

He heard a ruckus from outside the cabin. Heavy footsteps were approaching. The door opened and Sherman came back in, trailed by a tall woman with stringy ruddy-brown hair. She was in full armor save for a helmet clipped to her belt and she was carrying a spear with reddish electricity sparkling around the tip. _Guess that’s what Sherman meant by “electrocuted._ ”

“So this is our Roman brother,” Sherman introduced. “He’s a Praetor.”

Clarisse scanned him. Her eyes were beyond piercing. “... He looks like he’s gone through all the appropriate pomp and circumstance. Can we stick his head in the toilet?”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Frank responded.

“Ooh, he’s feisty,” Clarisse responded, grinning. She really _did_ have pointed canines. “Can I have the first spar with him?”

“Sure,” Sherman shrugged. “I mean, I wanted it, but…” 

“Do I get a say in whether or not I fight you?” Frank asked. “I mean, is it really necessary?”

“It’s very, _very_ necessary,” Clarisse grinned. She sat down next to Frank. He could feel the vibrations in the bench as she sat. She was almost as tall as he was. Frank took note of a slicemark scar on her chin, white against the otherwise tanned flesh. It glinted evilly in the dim light. “I’m ready to go now. It shouldn’t take long.”

“I promised my girlfriend I wouldn’t get myself hurt,” Frank replied. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Clarisse pursed her lips. “Now you’ve put me in an awkward situation. If I make you fight me, I feel like an asshole for putting you in danger. If I don’t, I look weak because I just gave way all wishy-washy to your pathos. Hmm, what to do.” She thought. “Well, one is better for my rep at least. Get your armor on, Praetor. We spar in ten minutes.”

After a thorough bitching out from Hazel, Frank was in his armor and ready to spar. Clarisse jumped him immediately as soon as he entered the arena, her spear shooting out in front of her. Frank caught it on his shield and pushed her off. _Okay. Now is time for bear mode._ He transformed. Clarisse shrieked. “What the _fuck?”_

Frank growled and jumped at her, trying to bite her without risking the wrath of her spear. He didn’t know what would happen if he got stabbed, but he guessed it would be nothing good. His ears turned off to everything except the _swoosh_ of her spear as it cut the air, trying to tell where it was in relation to his body. She kept him at bay pretty well. He ducked under her spear as she struck up at him, biting at her leg. She howled as the teeth sank into her flesh. Frank almost felt bad for her. Clarisse fell on her butt, stabbing again. Frank felt electricity tingle through his flesh as the spear grazed him, felt the heat on his skin. He had to get her to let go of that spear. 

He let go of her leg, watching her sweats turn red with blood. He felt a hot jolt of pain blast through his shoulder. Cold fear gripped his heart. Was that the spear? No, something else. There was no electricity. She’d had a dagger. This whole time, she’d had a fucking dagger and he’d never noticed. He howled in pain, lunging, biting her arm. She howled again and the spear fell from her hand. Frank felt pain sear through his side. She’d stabbed him again. _Should have known that she was ambidextrous in fighting._ He released her arm, going for the other one, biting, missing as Clarisse commando-crawled back, blood running down her limbs. She staggered to her feet, putting space between her and Frank. Frank could tell he’d hurt her leg pretty bad. She was limping.

Frank didn’t let up. He jumped at her again, staying between her and her spear, which now lay harmlessly on the ground. Clarisse stabbed blindly. Frank felt the dagger connect, felt it tear through his flesh. He howled again. He ducked down and bit hard on her injured leg, feeling her armor crumple under his teeth. His mouth tasted of metal. Her blood. Clarisse screamed and fell. This time, Frank let go more quickly. He jumped, slamming her against the ground, pinning her arms. She grunted, wincing in pain. She was struggling hard, but couldn’t raise her arm enough to stab him. 

Frank heard the bystanders start hollering. “He took her out! He took her out! Oh, shit, he took her out! He’s gonna kill her!”

Frank transformed back into a human, pressing his knee into her chest. “I think that’s my win, sister.”

Clarisse closed her eyes. Frank got the idea that she didn’t want to look at him. “... Fine,” she said simply. “Fine.”

“Promise not to stab me if I release you?”

“... Fine.”

Frank released her. “Alright. You okay? Need the infirmary?”

She sat up, grabbing her spear. “I’m not the one bleeding from multiple stab wounds.”

Frank took note of the wounds on his shoulders, his chest, his arms. He suddenly felt all the pain in his wounds. It took all he had not to cry out. After all, Hazel was there. If he started hollering, she’d freak. He took a deep breath. “... Yeah. Let’s go to the infirmary. Let’s get healed.”

Clarisse staggered to her feet, wincing in pain. Hot needles of pain shot through her leg. It almost felt taunting. _I’m renowned for physical strength. I can’t go down because of some bite wounds._ She took a few steps, pain bolting through her leg with every footfall. It reminded her of the pain of a gunshot, throbbing.

She didn’t know how she made it to the infirmary. She was in the arena one moment and the next she was lying in an infirmary bed, listening to Frank whimper and groan as Will cleaned and stitched his wounds. Her shoulder was bound up in gauze and her calf was tightly wrapped. She guessed her leg wasn’t broken, despite the crushing pain. 

She turned her head. Will was bandaging Frank’s arm. The stitches were complete, Frank wasn’t moaning anymore, but Clarisse could still see the pain in his eyes.

Will sat back and sighed. “Well, you’re bandaged. Take some ambrosia and stay out of action for three days. You’ll be okay. Just be really careful when washing them, okay? And change the bandages twice a day.”

“Okay,” Frank nodded. 

“Also, how the hell did you…?”

“Oh, the bear? That’s… that’s an old family thing,” Frank chuckled. “It came from my mother’s side. We have some… some blood from Neptune, actually.”

Will raised his eyebrows. “Wow. _That’s_ why Are-Mars took an interest in your family.”

Frank nodded. “Yeah. Anyway, Frank the bear could beat Clarisse. Frank the human could not. That’s why I did that.”

“Clarisse the demigod says go fuck yourself,” Clarisse called. 

“That’s unnecessary,” Will replied. “Also, Clarisse, can you walk?”

“Hope so,” Clarisse muttered. She sat up.

“Here, let me help,” Will said, rushing to her side. He took one of her rough hands and helped her to her feet. 

She took a few steps. “... Feels okay. Still hurts, but it’s okay.”

“Yeah. It should. He messed up your leg pretty good, but nothing that can’t be helped with nectar. You’ll be fine. You’ll have some pretty big scars, though.”

Clarisse nodded. “I get it.”

Will scanned her. “... If you can walk, you should be okay to leave. Come back if you need any help with wound care, okay?”

“Will do,” Clarisse responded. “Frank? You okay to leave here? I think we should debrief somewhere private.”

 _Crap. She’s gonna stab me again._ “Sure. Let’s go.”

They walked back to the Ares cabin, Clarisse limping on her injured leg. Frank was deep in thought. _I still don’t know what a Ruegard is. Sherman told me not to ask her, but I’m so curious, and_ he _wouldn’t tell me…_ “Hey, Clarisse, can I ask you something?”

Clarisse shrugged. “Sure. As long as it isn’t personal.”

“Don’t _think_ it is, anyway,” Frank mused. “Eh… what’s a Ruegard?”

“A _what?”_

“Rue-gard. R-U-E-G-A-R-D. It was scrawled on the wall of the Ares cabin and Sherman wouldn’t tell me what it was. He told me not to ask you, but I was so curious…”

Frank watched Clarisse’s face change from pissiness into full-blown rage. She clenched her jaw. Frank assumed she was going to jump him and tensed, getting ready to change into bear form. _Oh, crap. She’s gonna kill me._

“... It’s just some nonsense graffiti,” she finally managed. Her voice sounded strained. “Nothing to worry about.”

“... Okay. I just… I didn’t know if it meant something.”

“Well, it doesn’t. Maybe it did for someone at some point, but it doesn’t mean anything now.” Clarisse pushed into the cabin, flopping down on a bench. “So put it out of your head.”

  
  


Frank did not put it out of his head.

It swirled around in there for the next two days. _Ruegard. Ruegard. R-U-E-G-A-R-D. What the hell is it? Why wouldn’t Clarisse want to talk about it? Why would she lie and say it doesn’t mean anything when it clearly did?_

Frank didn’t realize he was saying those things out loud until Percy, who was watching him from where they were sprawled under the Athena Parthenos, said “What the hell are you talking about?”

Frank blinked. It was a bright warm day in summer. “Some graffiti I saw in the Ares cabin. I don’t know what it means.”

Percy shrugged. “I don’t either. I was never that close with the Ares cabin, though. Clarisse fucking hates me.”

“She does? Why?”

“Because I fought her when she tried to stick my head in the toilet, that’s why,” Percy snorted. 

“She threatened to do that to me,” Frank laughed. “Didn’t actually do it, though.”

“What a _bitch,”_ Percy laughed. “I’m glad she’s your sister and not mine.”

Frank managed a nod. “... Anyway, do you think Annabeth would know?”

Percy shrugged. “Maybe. Here, I’ll go get her.” He left and was back in an instant with Annabeth. 

“Hey, Frank,” she started. “You had a question?”

“Yeah. What’s a Ruegard?”

Annabeth cocked her head. “Huh?”

“Ruegard.”

“Am I being Ligma’ed?”

“... What’s a ligma?”

Annabeth smirked. “Ligma balls.” Then her eyes widened. “... Ooooh, you meant _Ruegard._ Oh, shit. That’s old. Brings me back, man. Anyway, Clarisse had this friend named Silena. Silena Beauregard. She was a really sweet girl and Clarisse loved her, she was really her only friend. We used to joke that they were dating, even though we knew they weren’t. Anyway, their little relationship name was Ruegard, from Clarisse La _Rue_ and Silena Beaure _gard_.”

“Wait, Silena _was_ a sweet girl?”

“Was.”

Frank was silent for a long time. No wonder Clarisse hadn’t wanted to talk about it. Her best friend had died. Frank thought back to the hurt he’d felt when he learned of Jason’s death and tried to imagine that but worse. He could barely imagine it. He wondered if Jason’s death was even an adequate point of comparison, or if maybe he should compare it to his mother’s instead.

That thought only made him sadder.

“... I... I think I… I think I need to go now,” Frank stammered. He didn’t wait for Percy or Annabeth’s response. He just turned and ran. He didn’t care where it took him, he just needed to move. _Oh gods. Oh gods. No wonder Clarisse didn’t want to talk about it. Oh gods. Why would the gods be so cruel as to take someone’s best friend for no reason? She must have been in so much pain. She must_ still _be in so much pain. Oh, fuck._

Frank halted dead in his tracks. His running had brought him to the Ares cabin. He knocked on the door, hard, gasping. 

Clarisse answered. “Fuck you want?”

“... Are you okay?” The words tumbled out before Frank could stop himself.

Clarisse crossed her arms. “Well, aside from what you did to me, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“... I… um… I didn’t want… Annabeth said…” He stopped, studying her face. 

She didn’t necessarily look _angry,_ she was scowling slightly, but she didn’t look enraged. “What did she say about me? I wanna know if I need to fight her ass too.”

“Nothing bad… just… I…”

“She told you what ‘Ruegard’ meant, didn’t she.”

“... Yeah,” Frank whispered. “Yeah.”

Clarisse wrapped herself tightly in her cloak. “Yeah. Silena. She’s dead. Died during Manhattan. Happy now?”

“... No,” Frank murmured. “... Not really.”

Clarisse stared at Frank for a really long time. “Well, it isn’t your problem, so forget about it.”

“... But… you’re my _sister,”_ Frank managed. “Aren’t… am I not supposed to help… to help you with these types of things?”

Clarisse’s eyes flashed with anger. She slammed Frank against the wall. “Listen, punk, stop trying to play hero. I don’t need you to come in and save me. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Silena or no Silena, you or no you. I don’t need your help. Capisce?”

“... Capisce,” Frank squeaked. 

“... Good,” Clarisse grumbled. She released him, took a step back and scanned Frank’s face. “... Good.”

Frank couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so helpless. “... Glad you’re okay.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Clarisse responded. She turned. “Are you coming in or not?”

“... Okay,” Frank said awkwardly. He followed her into the cabin. No one else was inside. “Where’s Sherman?”

“With Ellis. They’re sparring. Chiron said we couldn’t spar in the cabin anymore after Sherman broke one of the benches.” 

“How do you break a… okay,” Frank sighed. He sat down on one of the remaining benches. “At least no one was hurt.”

Clarisse nodded. She pulled an ornate box out of one of the footlockers before crawling into a top-bunk bed. “Yeah.”

“... What’s in the box?” Frank asked.

“Just some… stuff.”

 _Oh gods._ “... Okay.”

“Not sex stuff, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Clarisse snorted. “I’m not a whore.”

“I never said you were,” Frank said. “But it’s nice to know it isn’t something gross.”

“Yeah. Actually, come up here. I want to show you something. If you’re really a child of war you’ll appreciate it,” Clarisse said, indulgently, conspiratorially.

Frank hesitantly kicked off his shoes and crawled up into her bed. She was crosslegged, holding a knife in a leather sheath. “Oh, it’s a knife. Yeah, I was always more into ranged weapons.”

“Guns?” Clarisse asked. 

“Bows and arrows. Also catapults and trebuchets.”

“That’s cool. Get a load of this,” Clarisse smirked. She pulled the knife from its sheath and Frank started. It was _horrifyingly_ sharp. 

“... Oh, _shit.”_ Frank chuckled nervously. 

“Yeah,” Clarisse grinned. “This could kill someone _really easily_ . If I had stabbed you with this baby, you’d be minus an arm right now _at best._ Especially with my weapons expertise."

“Gods, put it away! You’re freaking me out,” Frank laughed. 

Clarisse poked him gently with the tip. “Aww, what’s wrong? You don’t like being threatened with knives? Poor baby!” she mocked, slipping the blade back into its sheath and putting it away.

“Thanks,” Frank responded. He looked down into the box. “... How many do you have?”

“Prolly a hundred," Clarisse shrugged. "Maybe a hundred and fifty."

“Gods.” Frank didn’t know what to think. “... You really are a collector. That has to be worth thousands.”

“Oh, I’d never sell it. I love all of my knives.” Clarisse pulled out an undersized fish-gutting knife and traced it along her wrists. “I’d never sell a single one.”

“... Don’t accidentally slash your wrists,” Frank murmured. 

“Ah, who cares? If I die I die,” Clarisse sighed.

Frank shifted. He didn’t know how to respond. “... I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“It’s cool,” Clarisse shrugged. 

There was a very long pause. Finally, Frank spoke again. “... Who do you usually hang out with?”

“Just my boyfriend,” Clarisse shrugged.

“Who’s that?”

“Guy named Chris Rodriguez. He’s from Hermes.”

“Ah. War and pillage,” Frank laughed.

Clarisse laughed, the scar on her chin glinting as she tossed her head back. “Ah, you’re funny. Now I’m kind of glad I didn’t give you that swirly. Anyway, aren’t you dating a daughter of Pluto? War and death?”

“Yeah. I’d say we have a theme, but…”

“... Sherman,” Clarisse finished. “And Miranda.”

“I guess… after the wars kill everyone, the world regrows in its place?” Frank managed.

“That’s kind of stupid,” Clarisse sighed. 

“You try thinking of a better metaphor,” Frank snorted. 

She scowled. “Oh, fuck you.”

“I’d really rather you not. You’re my sister. That would be weird.”

Clarisse flipped him off. “Oh, shut up.”

Frank smiled. “I’m sorry.”

Clarisse grinned, an eerie grin. “It’s cool.”

There was a pause. Frank started. “I have to make sure Hazel did what I asked her to do.”

“You leaving?”

“I think I have to,” Frank sighed.

Clarisse fiddled with her fish-gutting knife. “I’ll see you around, then.”

“... It was nice meeting you,” Frank said as he climbed down the ladder.

Clarisse started. Her face looked unusually soft. “Thanks, Frank. It was nice meeting you too.”


	63. Non-shippy- Photograph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank's bored and wants to see what Clarisse is up to. Unfortunately, he catches her at a bad time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This kind of forms a trilogy with chapters 11 and 66. Mentions of Silena's death scene. Also mentions of minor schoolyard-type bullying, but not very severe.

Frank knocked on the door of the Ares cabin. Sherman answered. “What do you need?”

“I dunno. Bored,” Frank responded. “Is Clarisse in here?”

“No. Check out back. If that doesn’t work, check the Big House basement. She’s usually there.” Sherman closed the door.

“Okay,” Frank replied. _Why did I say that? The door was already closed. Good job, Frank, good job._

He walked around the back of the cabin. There was nothing but some scrubby brush and a sad little round cactus in a pot, hidden beneath an umbrella. Frank assumed it was so the cactus wouldn’t get over-watered. 

He made his way to the Big House. He thought back to when they met a few days ago. Clarisse had fought him. His arm still hurt when he tried to move it, and the stitches burned when he washed them. He was sure that Clarisse’s wounds gave her the same pains. 

“Chiron, sir?” Frank asked, entering the living room of the Big House. 

“Yes, Mr. Zhang?”

“Where is the basement?”

Chiron cocked his head. “Why would you want to know? There’s nothing down there but spare nectar and ambrosia and Celestial Bronze ore.”

“I think Clarisse is down there. I want to talk to her.”

Chiron nodded. “Okay. It’s down the hall to the right. It’s the last door you’ll see.”

Frank nodded. “Thanks, sir.” He left, walking through the aforementioned door. The basement was dark except for a torchlight flickering from behind some boxes. “... Clarisse?” he called. 

No response. 

Frank rounded some boxes. Clarisse was sitting there, staring idly at a lantern. There was what looked like a photograph in front of her. “... Clarisse?”

“... Frank,” she finally acknowledged. 

Frank couldn’t help but notice she looked incredibly sad. “Hey, man, you all right?”

“... I’m good.”

Frank sat down next to her. “... You sure?”

Clarisse nodded. 

Frank studied the photo. Clarisse was hugging a girl from behind. The girl had bleached-blonde hair and bright blue eyes. “Is that…”

“Don’t,” Clarisse sighed. “Don’t. It’s exactly who you think it is. I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“... I’m sorry,” Frank murmured. 

Clarisse nodded. She opened the lantern, staring at the photo some more. She began to put it into the lantern.

“Hey, don’t burn it,” Frank murmured. “It was making you happy. It shouldn’t matter if I saw it or not.”

“... I don’t… I wish I could just… forget her. Pretend she never existed. Maybe if I… if I just destroy everything that reminds me of her, I can just forget. Maybe then…” Clarisse took a deep breath. Frank saw a tear glistening in the corner of her eye. “... Maybe then I can have some fucking peace.”

Frank reached for her, trying to invite her into a side-hug of sorts. Clarisse leaned into it and he pulled her close by her waist. She stared at the picture in her hand. Frank saw a single drop fall onto the paper, obscuring her face, her frozen smile. “... Need a tissue?”

Clarisse wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “... No,” she sniffled. 

Frank nodded. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the warmth of her body against his arm, trying to focus as much comfort as he could into the touch. He wanted to hold her, he wanted to squeeze her, he wanted to pour as much tenderness into her as he could muster, but he knew that she would hate that, so he settled with trying to communicate as much as he could with what he had. “... I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Clarisse leaned her head on his shoulder. “... Are you sure you’re really an Ares kid?”

“I’m a Mars kid, technically.”

“... Ares kids aren’t supposed to try and comfort you when you’re weak as a head counselor. They’re supposed to try and take your title.”

“... That’s no way to live,” Frank murmured. 

Clarisse sighed. “It’s how it is, I guess.” Her voice trembled. 

There was a pause. Once again, Frank thought about Jason. He remembered the squeeze in his chest when he’d seen Apollo bring the news, that constriction of the heart, the urge to cry that he couldn’t release, at least not in front of the legion. He remembered how Hazel had cried herself to sleep that night, curled up in his arms, his tears dripping into the pillow as hers dripped into his shirt. He felt a surge of anger-- why should anyone ever have to go through that? 

He took a deep breath. “... Tell me about… her,” he murmured. “Humanize her. I want to see her as a real person, not something that’s stabbing you in the heart day after day.”

“... I don’t want to relive it,” Clarisse whispered. Her voice broke. “I just want to forget.”

“Cry if you need. I don’t care,” Frank said. “I’ll wipe your tears. It’s okay.”

Clarisse took a deep breath. “... She was wonderful. Beautiful.”

“Nothing about physical beauty. I can look up photos if I want to think about pretty girls.”

“No, on the inside. She was so sweet. She was the type… she was the type of friend who kissed her friends goodnight. She’d give you the shirt off her back. I think I still have a bra she lent me-- we used to wear the same cup size, even though she was a tiny little thing and… well… you know.”

“Yeah,” Frank agreed. 

He kept quiet, prompting her to continue. “I remember she loved the color pink. Her entire damn bedroom at her place was pink. I used to tease her for it until her dad told me to stop because it was legitimately making her upset. I apologized and she actually started to cry because… I don’t know why. She cried so easily. She cried about everything. I remember we would IM each other all the time. She cried in, like, half of those.

“Half of the time it was because she hated the fact that people thought she was a basic bitch because she bleached her hair and wore pink all the time. I remember I told her that hey, she’s the daughter of a literal goddess. She’s better than those sluts. She never seemed to believe me, though.

“I remember how happy she was when she started dating her boyfriend. She just looked so soft when she was with him, they’d be holding hands all the time and sneaking around and kissing. I remember I caught them watching the sunset one time and he was holding her and stroking her hair and she was just smiling, this soft distant smile. 

“Gods, she was in so much pain after he died. He was the first casualty of the Battle of Manhattan. She was… I don’t even know. In the few days between, she was… well, she didn’t do much but cry for the first three or so days. And I didn’t do much but hold her. And then afterwards she just had… so much determination and I thought… I thought she was gonna be able to fight, and she tried, she tried so hard, she fought longer and harder than I did but in the end…” Clarisse sniffled, hiccuped, tears rolling down her cheeks. “In the end… oh, gods, she still died. She died and it was my fault. Because I was stupid and… and tried to stay out of it because Ares and Apollo were fighting over a chariot that they wound up giving me as a bribe to get me to fight, but I… but I still stayed out of it. Silena tried to convince me, but… but I was so _stupid…”_

Frank patted the tears off of her cheeks. “... What happened?”

“She put on my armor. She imitated my voice. And she led my cabin to war in my place. And then she was burned to death by a drakon and… oh, gods, I can still see… I can still see those wounds, those fucking wounds, her face looked like raw hamburger. Just raw fucking meat. Oh, gods, gods, she was beautiful. She was so fucking brave.”

“... You loved her,” Frank murmured. 

Clarisse nodded. She wiped her eyes. “Oh, gods, I’m sorry.”

“... It’s okay. I’m not mad. Don’t feel bad for crying. You deserve to be able to cry about it. You deserve that release.” 

Clarisse hid her head in her hands. Frank heard her whimper helplessly, he saw her fingers become wet as tears slipped through them. “... May I give you a hug? A real one?”

Clarisse huddled close to him, burying her face in his shoulder. Frank wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, squeezing her as tightly as he could. She returned the hug, fierce, aggressive, pained. Frank felt the furious heat of her grief through every inch of the touch, her biceps squeezing against him, her fingernails digging into his spine, leaving marks he hoped to hell Hazel wouldn’t find. He stroked her hair, returning gentle promises, soft touches to ease the pain. 

Finally, Clarisse sighed and pulled away. “... You give nice hugs,” she murmured. 

“Thanks,” Frank replied. “You feeling a little better?”

“... I don’t think I’ll ever really feel better. But I don’t feel like crying as much,” Clarisse admitted. 

Frank nodded. “Yeah, no, losing a friend hurts. It hurts like hell. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

Clarisse nodded. She wiped her eyes again, sniffling. “Sometimes I really do just want to disappear. I mean, it’s been two years and I… I still feel like there’s this huge damn hole in me, you know?”

“No, I know,” Frank replied. He remembered how cold he’d felt after his mother’s funeral. He’d just wanted to curl up somewhere warm and forget that he was a corporeal being with feelings and responsibilities and (hopefully) a purpose. “Believe me, I know.” 

They sat together in silence for a few more moments. Clarisse picked up the lantern. “... Let’s get out of here. There’s too much sadness in here and I want to see Chris.”

“Let’s,” Frank replied. “I think seeing your boyfriend would help.”


	64. Chrisse- "Can We Speak Without The Siblings?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone requested a scene where Frank and Chris meet. I thought it was a good idea, so I kind of sketched it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starts off where the last one ends. Kind of.

Frank knocked on the door of the Hermes cabin, trying to find Chris. Clarisse had told him they were having a private Hermes-kid meeting. Frank figured he’d have to intervene. After all, Clarisse was sad. Chris could spare the time to help out.

A skinny kid with buckteeth answered. “What do you need?”

“Hey, man, I was just wondering if Chris Rodriguez was in here.”

“He is. Why?” 

“Clarisse wants to talk to him,” Frank replied. 

The kid nodded. “Come on in,” he beckoned. 

Frank led Clarisse in. The Hermes cabin was pure mess and chaos. There was junk everywhere, sleeping bags, boxes of stuff, piles of clothes. Frank thought he saw a few Roman helmets mixed in.  _ Probably from the battle with Gaia.  _ He next noticed that the Hermes kids, including what seemed to be Connor, were duct-taping a redheaded girl to the ceiling. “What are you  _ doing?” _

“She wanted it,” explained Connor. “She wanted to see how long she could hang.”

“Dude, this is madness. Put a stop to it. You’re the Head Counselor, aren’t you?”

He laughed. “Oh, you want my brother. I’m  _ Travis _ Stoll. You’re looking for  _ Connor _ Stoll.”

“... Oh. Are you twins?”

“No, but we have the same mom, so we’re biological clones,” the person Frank now realized to be Travis replied. “I’m two years his senior.”

Frank’s head was spinning. “... Oh. Of course. Where’s Connor?”

“I dunno, in the bathroom beating off. I don’t have any idea.”

“... Ooookay. Which one of you is Chris Rodriguez?”

Another face with deep tan skin popped out of the crowd. “Me. I’m here.”

“Clarisse wants to speak with you. Preferably without all of the…” Frank gestured at the small crowd, who were still cooperating to tape the little redhead girl to the ceiling. “... siblings.”

Chris laughed. “Yeah, I get it. Travis, are you okay to handle this?”

“I think I can handle taping her to the ceiling, bro,” Travis nodded.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “See ya.” He left the cabin with Frank and Clarisse. “Yeah, he was the Head Counselor through Manhattan. I don’t know why I asked him if he was good.”

“Oh gods,” Frank laughed. 

“Yeah. He literally relinquished the role immediately after the battle. Said it would be good for Connor to take the role, but I always thought he just couldn’t take the heat.”

Frank nodded. “Well, some people can’t. Also, why were you taping that girl to the ceiling?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s Julia. As Travis said, she said she wanted to see how much duct tape it would take to hold her to the ceiling. She’s over a bunk bed so if she falls she won’t be hurt, or at least not too badly. She’s fine.”

“Well, I’m glad you guys have such wholesome family time,” Frank laughed. 

“We try to have fun,” Chris laughed. “Anyway, Clarisse, why did you want to talk to me? Are you okay?”

Clarisse led them behind the Ares cabin. “... I’ll… I don’t know. I don’t feel good.”

Chris leaned against the wall. “You want a cuddle?” 

Clarisse nodded. She pressed herself against Chris and Chris pulled her close. Frank noticed suddenly that they were almost the same height. They seemed to fit against each other well, his arms around her waist, hers around his chest and back. She buried her face in his shoulder. His hand traced idly over her back, gently moving up and down on the flesh. 

“... Is this about her again?” Chris asked.

Clarisse nodded. “... Yeah. Yeah, it is.” 

Chris whispered to her, soft words meant for her heart alone. Frank almost wanted to leave them alone, give them their moment, let Clarisse get her relief in private. But for some reason, his feet wouldn’t move. He couldn’t help but watch, feeling his heart fill with approval for Chris, this man who held his sister-- _ sister,  _ it was still so foreign to him--so gently. 

Finally, Clarisse pulled away. “... I’m sorry. I didn’t… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Chris pet her cheek, brushing softly with the back of his fingers. “I’m never gonna be mad at you for needing comfort.”

Clarisse leaned into the touch slightly, blushing. “... Thanks.” Her voice cracked as she spoke. 

“No problem,” Chris chuckled. He wrapped an arm around her waist. 

“... You’re gentle with her,” Frank observed. “That’s a good thing.”

Chris grinned. “Thanks. Yeah, I love her. I wouldn’t do anything bad to her.”

“Thank gods for that,” Frank laughed. 

Chris nodded. “... Clarisse? Is there anything else I can do to help?”

“... I wanna sleep. I wanna sleep for a really long time.” Clarisse’s voice broke. 

“Okay,” Chris replied gently. “Let’s get you to your cabin, then.”

Chris and Frank escorted Clarisse into the Ares cabin, Clarisse wrapped in her cloak. She climbed into her bed as soon as she entered. “... You guys can go now,” she murmured. “I need some… I need some time.”

“You don’t want more cuddles?” Chris asked.

“... No. I just want to sleep.”

“Okay,” Chris murmured. “We’ll go.”

He and Frank turned to leave. “... It was nice to meet you,” Chris managed, finally, wanting to break the silence.

“Nice to meet you too, man,” Frank replied. “Is… is she gonna be okay?”

“... Gods, I hope so. I mean, she’s really deep in grief, has been for some time. I just worry because she doesn’t seem to be getting better.”

“Yeah, no, I noticed that. It’s really… it’s really fresh for her,” Frank replied. “It’s really fresh for her even two years later.”

“... Yeah,” Chris murmured. “... Well, they say time heals all wounds. I’m just gonna hope that that’s true.”

“Me too,” Frank replied.

Chris shifted. “Anyway, man, I gotta go. Travis is gonna get antsy if I don’t return soon.”

“Cool. Good to see you, man. I’ll see you later.”

Chris gave him a quick backpatting hug. “See you later, man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one wound up kind of short. I really have no control as to the length of these things, honestly.


	65. Mitchell x Clovis x Pollux- Did You Have A Nightmare?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pollux has a nightmare. Fortunately, Clovis is there.

" _Luxy?”_

_Pollux opened his eyes. A softly smiling face with shaggy curly blond hair and violet eyes was hovering over him. Tears pooled in his eyes. Oh, gods, he’d missed him so much. “Cas…?”_

_“Yeah. It’s me. Did you have a nightmare? You were crying in your sleep.”_

_Pollux put a hand on the back of Castor’s head, holding him close, running his hands through his hair, feeling the topography of his body, identical to his own. “I… I had a dream where you died,” Pollux sniffled. “I had to… I had to learn to live without you.”_

_“That sounds really hard,” Castor murmured. He kissed Pollux's_ _cheek, his lips soft and warm. “I’m so sorry.”_

_“It hurt so much,” Pollux sobbed. He held him close, taking in his smell of fruit punch, sweet and sugary. “It was agony, Cas, I… I didn’t stop crying for months.”_

_Castor curled up into the fetal position, holding him close. Pollux buried his face in his chest, enjoying the warmth, the softness. “Don’t worry, Luxy. It’s okay. It was only a dream.”_

_Pollux took a deep breath, taking in Castor’s scent, his everything, wanting to hold him in his lungs for as long as he could. “... Do you promise?”_

_“I promise.” Pollux could hear the smile in Castor’s voice. “I promise. I’m not dead. I’m okay.”_

_“... I love you, Cas,” Pollux murmured, blinking hard, trying not to weep. “I don’t say it enough.”_

_“I love you too, Luxy. I do.” Cas pulled away slightly, wine-purple eyes met, undeniable heat radiated between them. “And I know you love me. You don’t have to say it. It’s okay.”_

_Pollux sniffled. He kissed Castor’s cheek, warm, real. “I love you.”_

_A horn sounded in the background. “Oh. That’s the horn. I’ve gotta go,” Castor whispered. He got up and ran out the door, across the camp green. The horn kept sounding. Pollux screamed as he saw something fall from the sky, an arrow, shooting at Castor. “Cas! Cas!” Why wasn’t Castor turning? Why wasn’t he dodging? “CAS!”_

_The arrow struck. Castor fell, tumbling to the ground, howling. Pollux screamed. “CAS! Oh, gods!” He ran to Castor’s side. “Oh, gods, wake up! Please! I… I love you! I need you! Please, please! Don’t leave me!”_

_“Pollux!” Who was that? Pollux couldn’t register._

_“Help him!” Pollux yelled to the voice, holding Castor as his blood pooled around them. “I can’t live without him! He’s my… he’s my_ twin! _I_ need _him!”_

_“Pollux! Wake up!”_

_“I… I’m not... !” Pollux let out a helpless sob. “Help him! Fucking help him! He’s gonna die!” He looked down at Castor, seeing him heave one last breath. “Please!”_

_“... I love you,” Castor croaked. “Please. I do.”_

_“I love you too! Please, don’t… don’t…” He watched his chest still, watched his beautiful amethyst eyes focus on the clouds above and stay there. “... I need you… Cas…” His voice broke, sobbing hard. “Cas…”_

_“Pollux, please!” That damned mystery voice. “Please! Wake up! It’s not real!_

_“You’re having a nightmare!”_

Pollux jerked awake, screaming and sobbing, he couldn’t breathe. “Cas… ! Oh gods!”

“Pollux.” The voice was gentle, much gentler than it had been in the dream. A soft pudgy hand wiped tears from his eyes. “Pollux. Oh, gods, I’m sorry.”

Pollux couldn’t focus his eyes, he could barely open them, tears streamed from his aching eyes into the pillow. All he could see was a streak of blond hair above him. “... Who?” he croaked.

“It’s me, Clovis, remember? You and Mitchell and I were gonna hang out, but when I came in here you were asleep, so I just kind of sat next to you and napped. I woke up when I felt you start having the bad dream.”

Pollux groaned, gasping. “... Clovis.” He buried his face in his pillow, trying to recover, trying to stop crying, but he couldn’t relax his chest. “... I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, don’t apologize,” Clovis murmured. “You’re the one who’s suffering.” Clovis pet his hair. “... Do you want my help with the nightmares? I can make them better.”

Pollux raised his head. His eyes were heartbreakingly red, tears dripped from the corners. “... Please, I… I can’t… I see him die every night, it… it hurts so… so bad, oh gods… I’m scared to sleep, but I’m so tired, I… oh, gods, Clovis, I just want… I just want to die.”

“You don’t mean that,” Clovis murmured. “You don’t. You don’t want death, you want peace.”

Pollux leaned towards Clovis. Clovis continued petting his hair. “... I guess… I guess so. I just… I don’t… I feel like shit all the time.”

“It’s untenable,” Clovis nodded. “But I… I think I could try to help.”

“... How?” Pollux sniffled. “How?”

“... Well, I think we should do it later. It’s not sleepy time yet. You’ve been sleeping for a while.”

“... I’m so tired,” Pollux begged. “I’m so tired. Please, just give me a peaceful nap. Just in the hour or so before dinner. I need it.” His whole body ached. He couldn’t stop crying. He only wanted to sleep. He would have killed for sleep that made him feel rested, not pained. 

Clovis nodded. “Okay. Okay. It’s okay. You don’t need to beg me for it. I’ll give it. I was just suggesting you might want it later instead of now.”

Pollux nodded. “... Thank you,” he whimpered. Gods, he felt so fucking helpless. He only wished he didn’t cry so easily. “... Thank you so much.”

“I don’t mind,” he whispered. “Here, just make yourself comfortable.”

Pollux pulled the blanket up over his shoulders, wrapping himself up tight, snuggling into the blanket. The softness hurt-- _nothing_ should be soft right now. His brother was dead. His brother died in his arms. And every night he relived it. And every night it felt like _he’d_ been stabbed in the chest, too. No, that spear that had killed Castor hadn’t just stabbed him. It had stabbed Pollux too, and the wound had never closed. 

“You comfy?” Clovis asked. 

Pollux nodded. He couldn’t say anything. He felt his lip tremble and hoped Clovis didn’t see. 

“Okay,” Clovis murmured, petting Pollux’s hair. He closed his eyes and began to hum softly, as gently as he could, warm and sweet. It was different from his normal lullaby, the one he normally sang to soothe people to sleep. It was more of something you’d sing to a lover, less like something you’d sing to a friend. Clovis didn’t know why he sang that lullaby. It just felt right. 

He didn’t open his eyes until he was done singing. Pollux had his eyes closed, his breathing was soft. A tear still hung on the bridge of his nose. Clovis brushed it away. 

“... Your singing voice is beautiful,” Pollux whispered. “I could listen to it all day.”

“... Thanks,” Clovis blushed. 

“Uh huh,” Pollux murmured. 

Clovis continued to pet his hair. He could feel that Pollux was asleep, having used up the last of his energy to give Clovis that wonderful compliment about his voice. Clovis saw Pollux smile slightly. He was having a gentle dream.

He heard a soft tap on the door and moved to open it. Mitchell stood on the other side. His eyes were red and his hair was sloppily tied back. “Oh, hey.”

“... Why did you ditch me?” Mitchell sniffled.

“Oh, gods, Mitchie, we didn’t mean it.” Clovis pulled him inside, pulling him against his chest. “We both fell asleep. We never meant to ditch you.”

Mitchell relaxed against his chest. “... Sorry for accusing you.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Clovis chuckled softly. “It’s okay.”

Mitchell pulled away. His eyes fell on Pollux. “He’s still asleep?”

“Yeah. He had a nightmare. Then he begged me to give him some nightmare-free sleep. I folded because he looked so pained.”

Mitchell’s brow furrowed. He moved across the cabin and sat next to Pollux, putting a hand on his blanketed shoulder. “... Was it about… his…”

“Yeah. He’s really suffering. I mean, he only wants peace. It was all I could do for him to give him some comfort, you know?” Clovis sat down next to Mitchell on Pollux’s bed, petting his hair once more. His hair was soft.

“No, I know,” Mitchell nodded. “You’re a saint for always helping everyone with their nightmares. You’re really sweet.”

Clovis blushed. “Thanks. Man, I’m getting all the compliments today. Now I’m glad I got out of bed this morning.”

Mitchell pinched him. “I’m glad you got out of bed too.”

“Ow,” Clovis complained, rubbing his arm. Mitchell’s nails were sharp. “Hey, don’t pinch me.”

“I can’t help it. Your arm is so soft and pudgy.”

Clovis felt a cold heavy something in the pit of his gut. _I’m fat. He’s calling me fat. Come on, man, I know I’m disgusting. I don’t want to be reminded of it._ “... Thanks, I guess,” Clovis replied.

“You’re welcome,” Mitchell replied cheerily. He leaned in and studied Pollux’s face from where it was under the blanket. His face looked soft. “Well, at least Pollux looks happy now, or at least peaceful.”

Clovis nodded. “And that’s what matters.” He tried to push the pain of being called fat down and smiled. “You wanna just hang out here until he wakes up?”

Mitchell shrugged. “Sure.” He lay down on his back and looked up at the slats of Pollux’s bunk. “I mean, it’s not like I have anything else to do.”

Clovis sat down next to Pollux’s bunk again, resting his head on the mattress and closing his eyes. “... Sounds good. Do you want a nap? I want a nap.”

“You always want a nap,” Mitchell sighed. “... But sure, I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Clovis murmured, taking Mitchell’s hand. 

Mitchell laced his fingers between Clovis’s. “It’s okay. I’ve never slept well.” 

“But that’s not good,” Clovis insisted. “Here, get under the blankets and cuddle up to Pollux. Let me put you to sleep.”

Mitchell smiled. He tucked himself in, pressing himself against Pollux’s sleeping form. Pollux held him, still asleep. Mitchell blushed, feeling his heart warm. 

“That’s a good boy,” Clovis murmured. “Let’s get you caught up on sleep.”

Mitchell closed his eyes. Clovis stroked his hair, fingers carding gently over his scalp. He began to hum again, the same soft lover’s lullaby. Mitchell smiled as he drifted off, a beautiful soft peace set over his lips. It warmed Clovis’s insides. 

When he finished, he leaned in and kissed both of their cheeks. “Sleep well, you two. You need it.” He stood up and walked over to another bed, lying down and closing his own eyes. _I shouldn’t be in their bed. I’m too fat. I’d just crowd them out. I don’t know why they love me, but they do. It’s all I can do to make sure they feel safe and happy in their sleep._

_After all, it’s all I can do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clovis is described as being sort of pudgy in the books, right? I'm not making that up? I know his face is described as being kind of soft and round.  
> Also, all three of them are dysfunctional in some way when it comes to sleep. Clovis sleeps twenty hours a day, Mitchell only sleeps two, and Pollux only sleeps from 6 AM to noon and from 2 PM to five. They're literally not even normal if averaged.


	66. Solangelo- Right To Be Loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico's got a case of the sads. Will helps. Turns out there was (surprise!) a bunch of crap he'd been repressing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reyna doesn't look good here. Also, Nico's got some internalized homophobia-type issues, but it shouldn't be anything horribly offensive. Really, the only warnings are for Nico's issues.

Nico was lying in his bed, feeling sad. He didn’t even know why he was sad this time, he just was. He just felt empty, and there was nothing to distract him from it in his cabin, but he was too sad to leave. He figured eventually he’d have to use the bathroom badly enough that he couldn’t just lie there anymore, but he wasn’t at an emergency point yet. He figured eventually he’d get too thirsty or hungry to remain, but he’d become an expert at ignoring his needs. 

He figured eventually Will would get worried and come and find him, but he hadn’t done that yet. 

His mind hadn’t even finished the thought when he heard a knock at the door. _Of course. It’s ten minutes past breakfast and here we are._ “Come in.”

Will poked his curly blond head inside. “Hey, man, you up?”

“... Yeah,” Nico mumbled. 

Will stepped in all the way. “Why weren’t you at breakfast? Did you oversleep? Are you okay?”

“... I’m fine,” Nico muttered. “Just… tired.”

Will studied him. “... You don’t seem only tired. You seem sad.”

“... I’m…” Nico sighed. “I’m just really low-energy right now. I don’t… I didn’t have the energy to come to breakfast. There. Are you happy?”

Will sat down on his bed, leaving the front door cracked. “You’re that tired? You don’t feel sick, do you?” He cupped a hand on his forehead. Nico’s skin was cool. “You’re not feverish.”

“No, I’m… I’m not sick. I feel fine. I’m only tired,” Nico mumbled. 

Will nodded. “I don’t think there’s anything medically wrong with you. I think you’re just depressed.”

“... I’m not sad,” he muttered. “Only tired.” 

“... I think you need some fresh air,” Will replied. “Here, I have a granola bar. Eat that so you’re not hungry. Let’s go hang out by the canoe lake.”

Nico looked up. “... Fine,” Nico whispered. _You’re so hard to say no to. It’s so hard to refuse your face._ “Can I clean up first? I’m probably filthy.”

“Yeah, sure. Here, I’ll leave you alone and let you do that.” Will stood up.

Nico stood up as well, shakily. His legs were so stiff he could barely move them. 

“You need help?” Will asked. He ran to his side, offering the granola bar.

“... I’m okay,” Nico responded. He took the bar and staggered to the bathroom, stripping himself off. He almost flopped down on the toilet seat, rubbing on his calf muscles. Gods, why were his legs so stiff? 

He ate the granola bar. It tasted like a cookie. Gods, Will really did know what he liked. _I don’t deserve him._ He finished it, threw the wrapper away and pulled himself up, taking a few steps, finding himself less shaky. He supposed he only needed blood flow into his legs. 

He started the water running, holding a finger under the running water, feeling it become warm. Climbing into the shower, he stared at the tiles on the wall. They were cheap white porcelain with a few little black ones interspersed. They were already starting to chip in spots. Nico didn’t know why they were already falling apart. After all, it had only been a few years since they’d been installed. Nico didn’t know much about tiling, but he figured they should last a pretty long time. 

His mind wandered. _Gods, I really don’t deserve Will. He’s too nice to me. I don’t know why anyone would go so far for a basket case like me. I just hope that someday I can repay him somehow._

 _I’m gonna tell him about that. Tell him I don’t deserve him. Tell him he can do better. Tell him to leave me. Tell him I can’t possibly do right by him._ The thought of Will leaving him created a cold, empty sensation in his chest. _… I’m too used to his presence if the thought of him leaving creates this bad feeling._

_I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing._

Nico felt his eyes sting. At first, he thought he’d just gotten shampoo in his eyes, but then he felt it in his sinuses. _Come on, dude. You really couldn’t get any fucking gayer, could you? First you’re whiny because you had the thought that Will might leave you, now you’re crying? Pull yourself together and wash the rest of yourself._

He washed the rest of himself, stifling tears. He felt so pathetic when he was teary. It didn’t help that whenever he cried it made him think of Reyna. _Why did you leave me, Reyna? Why did you leave us? Did you really hate us that much? Was joining a death cult really preferable for you?_

He stepped out of the shower, wrapping himself in his towel, squeezing the water out of his overlong hair. He sat down on the toilet, hugging himself, pressing the towel to his face to stifle his tears. _I… I_ hate _you, Reyna. I hate you. I can’t stand you. I wish you had just died. I wish you had never been nice to me. I wish… I wish I had let Bryce Lawrence kill you._

_It would hurt the same._

Nico stood up. He brushed his hair, tied it back and dressed himself in a tee shirt and black skinny jeans. He felt the tee shirt bag around his thighs. _Must be Will’s. Gods, I remember when… I remember when Will’s shirts came down to my knees._

 _… I don’t like growing up. I don’t like… I can’t believe Bianca was only twelve. I got four more years on her. She seemed so much older than twelve._ Nico sighed and sniffled. He felt a sudden, strong urge to go back to bed. He ignored it, leaving the cabin. The sunlight made his eyes hurt, the voices of the kids around him made his head spin. He felt exposed. He zipped his aviator’s jacket, even though it wasn’t cold.

He met Will on Will’s little hidden spot by the canoe lake. It was a place he and Will had hung out before, public yet hidden away by trees. Will patted the ground next to him and Nico sat, not having the energy to refuse his requests. 

“Hey, Neeks,” Will said warmly. “Did you enjoy the granola bar?”

Nico nodded.

“Thought you would. You always did have a sweet tooth,” Will chuckled. 

Will’s laugh made Nico feel warm inside. “... Yeah.”

“What’s making you sad?” Will murmured, leaning in so the talk felt more private.

“... Reyna,” Nico blurted, staring at the ground. “I can’t believe she even pretended to care about me if she was just gonna go and join Artemis’s damned death cult. I mean, why even pretend? Did she really just hate me that much? I mean, why would you even be so, pardon my French, _fucking_ cruel as to make someone care for you deeply then turn around and basically tell them that they basically mean less to you than the dirt under your feet? And leave them forever?” Nico felt a tear run down his cheek. “I mean, what’s the point?”

Will was quiet. “... I’m so sorry.”

“I guess she… she was… she just was so full of hate for me she decided to… to hurt me in a way that counted. Well, she got her way. I’m hurt. I guess… I guess in the end, I was just a filthy Greek spy who was nothing but an annoyance to her. And if hurting me makes her happy…” Nico’s voice was choked out by a sob. “... well, then, I’m happy that she’s happy.”

Nico felt Will wrap his arms around him. “... I don’t think she held any malice towards you. I’m… I’m not even sure she was thinking of you.”

“... So she never cared about me at all. That sounds typical.”

Will stroked his hair. “... Look, darlin’, I don’t know why she did what she did. I can’t speak for her. I never even knew her on any level deeper than by face. I don’t know what to say other than that _I_ care about you, and I’m gonna stay by you, no matter what. Okay?”

“If you swore on the Styx, I might actually believe you,” Nico quavered. 

“I swear,” Will replied. “I swear on the Styx, I’m staying by your side. I’m always gonna be there for you when and if you need it.”

Nico turned and buried his face in Will’s shoulder. “... I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t be stupid, darlin’. You have as much of a right to be loved as everyone else. Also, your hair looks nice tied back like that.” Will gently touched Nico’s ponytail. 

Nico didn’t know how to respond. He whimpered and pressed his face harder into Will’s shoulder, feeling more tears fall down his cheeks. He put his arms around Will’s neck as Will held him by his waist, cupping his other hand over his head. Nico couldn’t stop crying, moaning and gasping. The sound coming from his lips was so ugly it made him want to puke. His chest wouldn’t stop heaving. Desperation clawed at his chest, squished at his stomach. He couldn’t cry enough tears to air out his emotions. He wanted to cut his chest open, excise his heart and free it to the open air, let all the pain flow into the ether and leave him soft and empty and free. Free. 

“... You’re not feeling suicidal, are you?” Will asked. 

“... I do-on’t kn-o-ow,” Nico gasped. “I-I… i-it hu-urts…” He heaved a breath. “I-it hu-urts so-o ba-ad, Wi-ill…”

“Want me to do the thing?” Will asked. 

“No-o. I do-on’ wa-an’ you to-o ha-ave thi-is pa-in. I… you do-on’ de-se-erve i-it.”

Will held him closer. Every fiber of his being wanted to shelter Nico, wanted to help carry the pain, wanted to bear the weight. He would have given his life to see Nico smile, hear him laugh. “... You’re too sweet, darlin’.” 

Nico shook his head. “No-o, I-I… I ca-an’t… I… I do-on’... please… I… I jus’ wa-anna… sle-eep fo-ore-ev-ever, bu-ut I… I donwanna have nightmares, I jus’... Ple-ease, Wi-ill, I…”

“You’re desperate,” Will murmured, rocking him gently back and forth. “You’re overwhelmed. It’s all crashed down on you and you’re overwhelmed. It hurts real bad and you’re desperate for relief but you don’t want to hurt me, so you’re refusing my pain relief. And without that, you don’t know how to manage. And you just don’t want to feel anymore.”

Nico nodded. “... Please help,” he whispered. 

“I will. I will. Of course I will. I’m here for you. It’s okay. It’ll be okay, darlin’. I’m gonna make it okay.”

“... Say that again,” Nico whispered. “Please. Just tell me it’s okay. Even if it’s empty and stupid. Please.”

Will buried his face in Nico’s shoulder. “It’s okay, darlin’. It’s okay. It is. It’s gonna be okay. I’m here. You’ve got friends who love you. It’s okay.”

“... Jason’s gone,” Nico whimpered. “Reyna doesn’t give a damn about me.”

“I’m here. I’m still here. It’s okay. They may be gone but _I’m still here,_ and that’ll make it… make it better. And Hazel is still here. And so are Lou and Cecil and Travis and Connor. Oh, gods, Nico, Travis cares for you so dearly. He loves you. I love you. Hazel loves you. It’s gonna be okay.” Will pressed his lips to Nico’s neck, pale skin cool against his lips. “Oh, my darlin’, it’s all gonna be okay.”

“... It’s… it’s… o-kay,” Nico murmured shakily. “... It’s okay.”

“That’s my boy,” Will whispered. “That’s my boy.”

“... I love you,” Nico whispered desperately. “I do. I know I can’t repay anything you do for me, but I… I… please don’t leave me, I… I’ll do anything for you.”

“Don’t worry about repaying me for anything, darlin’,” Will murmured. “I don’t need you to do anything other than what you’ve already done, okay? Not now. I know you’d comfort me if I felt as sad as you are now. I don’t need you to beg me to stay. I’ve already sworn I would stay. It’s gonna be okay, okay?”

Nico nodded. He closed his eyes, focusing on the heat of Will’s body against his, trying to breathe slowly as his emotions evened out. “... I love you,” Nico whispered dizzily. “I love you.”

“I love you too, darlin’. I love you too.” Will moved Nico’s head and wiped his tears, his fingers soft like feathers yet painful as razor blades. Nico let it happen. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“... It’s gonna be okay,” Nico replied. He put his hands over Will’s larger ones. “... Will, thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.” Will replied. He put a kiss on Nico’s nose. “I’m just glad you’re feeling a little better.”

“... A little,” Nico mumbled. “... I… I still don’t feel good.”

Will nodded. “No, I get it. I think… I think you’re gonna be sore about Reyna for a long time. I think… I think for you, the pain really is equivalent to her dying.”

Nico nodded. “... It is.”

“I’m glad you can see that too,” Will murmured. He paused. “... Maybe you’d prefer not to talk about this anymore.”

Nico nodded. “... I’m just so tired.”

“You wanna lie down? We can lie down right here.”

Nico nodded. Will lay down. Nico put his head on his chest, curling up next to him. Will gently pet his hair, untying it from its ponytail, letting Nico’s soft feathery hair run over his fingers. He looped the hair tie around his wrist. He figured that saving Nico’s hair tie was the nice thing to do. He listened to Nico’s breathing, feeling his chest rise and fall. He was just glad that Nico was feeling a little better. 

He closed his eyes, seeing the bright light of the sun behind his eyes. Sunlight always made him feel good. Ever since he’d been claimed, he felt the warmth of the sun like his father’s kiss on his skin. Come to think of it, he didn’t think his father had ever shown him any physical affection at all. 

He opened his eyes and looked down at Nico, trying not to disturb him. Nico’s breathing was even and quiet, his eyes were closed, his face was soft. Will giggled softly. _Oh, baby boy. Gods, I hope you get some peaceful sleep._

“I love you, okay?” Will murmured. “... Sleep well. I hope you feel better when you wake up. And remember…” Will took a deep breath, carding fingers through his hair. “... Remember I'm here for you, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will's a sweetheart. We all need a Will in our lives.


	67. Non-shippy (implied Megpollo)- Hurts So Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg gets summoned to Olympus. Turns out, Apollo needs her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of child abuse. Zeus is a terrible dad.  
> It's not really shippy, they're really just friends, but I wanted to put it in the title anyway because I've gotten some hate for my content that has Meg and Apollo in it and I wanted to assist in applying the "don't like, don't read" policy.

“Meg!” 

Meg flinched. She took a deep breath and stood up from where she was curled up asleep in the strawberry fields.  _ Okay. Okay. No one’s out to get you. It’s all good.  _ She stood up. “What?”

Annabeth ran towards her. “I got a call from Lady Artemis. She told me to bring you to Olympus  _ now.” _

Meg cocked her head. “... Did she say why?”

“No. She just told me to bring you to her temple on Olympus.”

Meg shrugged. “Okay. I’ll bite. Let’s go. It’s probably just something to do with Apollo. Come to think of it… I haven’t seen him for a while. He missed our last two piano lessons. Gods, I hope nothing… nothing bad happened.”

Annabeth walked her out of the strawberry fields. “Well, we’ll see. Percy’s waiting in his car. Let’s go.”

Meg and Annabeth loaded into Percy’s car. Percy said something to her, but Meg wasn’t listening. Her stomach felt like it was full of snakes. She thought back to the last time she’d seen Apollo. She and Percy had been caught in a fight with a drakon and she’d been bitten really bad on the leg. Apollo had jumped in and healed her, shielding her. She remembered him saying offhand that gods really weren’t supposed to interfere in mortal fights, and that Zeus was probably gonna be really pissed. 

That only terrified her further. She’d heard the stories of Zeus’s rage. She’d heard stories of electrified shackles, Greek fire, scorched flesh, entire rooms soaked in ichor as whatever hapless god screamed for mercy. Meg felt her eyes prick with tears. She was trying so hard not to cry, trying so hard not to think of the worst, but all she could think of were burns lacing Apollo’s skin, ichor trickling from his lips, tears pouring out of his eyes. Meg sucked her lip to keep from crying.

It felt like years before they arrived at the Empire State Building. “Do you know where Artemis’s temple is?” Annabeth asked. 

“I’ll find it,” Meg managed. She felt sick.

“Do you need an escort? For protection?” Percy asked.

“I’ll be fine.” Meg jumped out of the car and ran into the building. She cornered the guy at the front desk and blurted “Six hundredth floor. I’ve been summoned.”

The front desk guy flinched. “Gods! Say that any louder, would you? Here, just take it.” The guy pushed a key at her. “Don’t activate it until you’re alone.”

Meg entered the elevator. Fortunately, she was alone. She activated the key. Her stomach twisted and she suddenly felt a powerful need for the toilet. She silently cursed her bladder for consistently failing her when she needed it most. 

Fortunately, she made it to the six hundredth floor without peeing on herself. She wobbled out into Olympus, her knees shaking. Artemis intercepted her almost as soon as she arrived. “Meg.”

“O-oh. Lady… Lady Artemis. What… what’s happening?”

Artemis met her eyes. Meg could see that she had some slight age lines about her eyes. They made her look tired. “I think you already know.”

“... Apollo?”

“Yes.” Artemis beckoned her along. Meg followed her. They walked through a garden path that seemed almost too beautiful, flowers blooming bright on all sides. It seemed unreal, too colorful, like something from a Disney movie.

“... Did Zeus do it?”

Artemis didn’t respond. Meg could feel the anger radiating off of her. It gave her goosebumps.

Meg picked a stray buttercup and fondled it between her fingers. “... I’m sorry.”

“It is not your fault. Come. My brother has been calling for you nonstop since I…” Her voice faltered. “... rescued him.”

Meg wanted to cry. “... I’m glad you rescued him.”

“I’m glad I did too.” Artemis led her into a forested area, clambering rapidly down a deerpath. “Tell me if you can’t keep up. Apollo will go insane if I let something bad happen to you.”

Meg held on to the plants for balance, branches reaching out to support her. “It’s cool. I can handle it.”

“Good,” nodded Artemis. 

It was only a few minutes before they reached a temple of silvery stone, ivy vines covering the walls, almost consumed by plants. “Here we are,” Artemis nodded. She pointed to the door. “Go inside.”

Meg entered. There was an altar inside with a few stairs leading up to it, no sacrifices were present. There were two couches on either side of the room. “... Where…” 

“Through the door in the back. He’s in my front room.”

Meg nodded. She moved to the door and put her hand on the knob, heaving a deep breath and closing her eyes. She felt faint. Something in her wanted to run. She didn’t want to see Apollo hurt, and from the little that she’d heard and assumed, it was pretty bad.

“What are you waiting for? Go in!” Artemis nagged. “The door won’t explode on you, girl.”

Meg nodded silently and opened the door, keeping her eyes closed. She peeked an eye open, opening it fully when she didn’t immediately see some disgusting amount of gore. There was a pile of blankets on the floor with a humanoid figure curled up within. Meg tiptoed over and knelt down next to it. “... Apollo?”

No response. 

Meg pushed a corner of the blanket back. Apollo’s face was buried in the pillow, dark hair hiding his face. Meg pushed the hair out of his face, as softly as she could. “Apollo? Did you summon m- oh, gods!” Apollo’s face was marked by a badly blistering burn. His other eye was swollen badly. Meg let out a strangled cry.

“... Meg…?” Apollo reached up and touched her hand. Meg noticed bandages looping around his wrist, felt his hand shaking. “... My dear.”

Meg’s hands were trembling. “... Apollo, I… I… how… how bad are… you?”

Apollo moaned. He didn’t respond.

“Bad,” Artemis replied. Meg hadn’t even seen her enter the room. “Some of those burns… I mean, his flesh is just charred. On his wrists, it’s… it’s almost to the bone. Inches deep. It’s… I don’t know… I mean, Zeus is ruthless. I’ve always known that. But I didn’t… I didn’t know he was  _ this  _ ruthless, especially not to someone who’s never been anything but… well, someone who’s never been explicitly… well… his son. Someone who’s on his side.”

Meg nodded. “I don’t know how anyone could hurt a child they bore. I don’t.” She took Apollo’s hand, very gently holding him by the fingers, barely even touching him. She felt a sudden urge of protectiveness surge through her. She  _ hated  _ Zeus. She wanted to take him down with her bare hands. At the same time, she wanted to stay here and cradle Apollo, hold him close, wipe his tears before they hit the burned part of his cheek, before they hurt him. 

“... Sister,” Apollo moaned quietly. “Sister. Artemis. Where are you? Please, please…”

Artemis dipped into a squat, one knee on the ground. “I’m here now, okay?”

“Please.” Apollo sobbed from where his face was buried in the pillow. “Please.”

“I’m here,” Artemis whispered, putting a hand on the back of his head. “You’re safe. Remember? I carried you out of there. Zeus isn’t gonna hurt you anymore.”

Tears welled in Apollo’s eyes. 

Meg brushed them away. “Why did… Why did he hurt you? Was there even a reason?”

Apollo’s lip trembled. “... He said… he said it was for… for interfering in a mortal battle.”

“When you healed me?” Meg blurted, feeling her eyes water. “When you saved my fucking life?”

“... It was worth it,” Apollo mumbled. “Every minute. It was worth it. To have you… it was worth it.”

Meg’s glasses fogged, in her blindness, she could only feel the tears that flowed down her cheeks. “... I…”

“Hey…” Apollo whispered. Meg felt a trembling hand on her cheek. “Don’t cry.”

Meg leaned in and put an arm around him, pressing her head into the pillow, taking off her glasses and leaning her forehead against his. “... I… I fucking… I can’t stand you, Apollo. Gods damn.” Her voice broke. “I just wish you’d… oh, gods, Apollo.”

“Shh, my dear. It’s all… oh!” He yelped as his burned and bandaged wrist made contact with Meg’s cheek. “... I’m sorry. It’s all okay.” 

“It’s so not okay,” Meg murmured. “I love you, but it’s so not okay.”

“I love you too,” Apollo whispered.

“Not like that. Like… I… I… you’re the sweetest thing that’s ever happened to me. Seeing you like this…” Meg’s voice broke and she pulled away. “It hurts so bad, Apollo.”

Apollo looked up at her. Through the intense pain, he tried to imagine what she must be feeling. He couldn’t quite understand why him taking a beating for her sake was so upsetting for her. Why would she cry if he was in pain? He looked up into her face, hoping it would provide answers. Her face was snotty and red and streaked with tears, little drops falling down her cheeks. He couldn’t help but see something beautiful in them, poetic, like little drops of her love falling from her eyes. Then it came to him, like a bolt from the blue.

Meg felt  _ guilty. _

“... It’s not your fault I got hurt,” Apollo murmured. “It isn’t. I did it as of my own volition.” He tried to focus on the feeling of her fingers between his, not the searing pain in his wrists and ankles and cheek and neck and… everywhere. 

Meg sniffled. She brushed her hand through his hair, hoping the touch was soothing. “... I know, but… I… I care for… I don’t want to see you hurt. I don’t want to see you… in pain, or fading, or shattered.”

“...’M sorry,” Apollo managed. “... ‘M sorry.”

Meg’s face changed. “... Don’t you  _ dare  _ apologize.” Her voice was filled with more genuine anger than he’d ever heard her manage. “Don’t you  _ fucking dare!  _ Oh, gods, Apollo, it’s not your fault. None of it! None of it is your fault. It’s Zeus’s abuse. Don’t apologize for that. Please!”

Apollo nodded. Small tears dripped down over the bridge of his nose. “... O-okay.”

Meg wiped his tears. “... I’m sorry. Just rest. I didn’t mean to… to yell at you.”

Apollo nodded. He reached out for her hand once more and Meg held it, gently. He took a deep breath, holding her hand against his chest and closing his eyes. “... Thank you,” he murmured. “... For coming here. I… I needed… I needed you.”

“You’re welcome,” Meg murmured. “It’s no problem. I’m here now. Don’t worry about me. I’m okay. Just focus on healing yourself.”

Apollo nodded. “... Thanks,” he murmured. “... I… I’ll do my best.”

Meg gently squoze his fingers. “... I’m glad.”

“... Do you need some nectar?” Artemis asked. She’d been quiet for a long time.

Apollo nodded. “... Yeah. I… I’m so thirsty.”

“Here,” Artemis murmured, holding a bottle to his lips. 

Apollo drank deeply, enjoying the sweet taste in his mouth, feeling the drink melt the chalkiness in his throat. “... Thank you, my sister.”

Artemis stroked his forehead with a cool hand; he leaned gently into the touch. “Don’t worry, brother. You’re okay. You’re safe here. You’re gonna recover. It’ll feel better. You heal so fast, my brother. You’ll be okay.” She kissed his forehead, her lips soft. 

“... I’m so cold,” he whispered. “It hurts so bad. I’m so cold.”

Meg leaned in and held him close, her small arms cradling his head against her chest. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna... you’re gonna heal.”

“... I’m gonna get you another blanket and some more aloe cream for the burns,” Artemis murmured. “The blanket will warm you and the cream will help with the burns. Just while your powers kick in and your body heals.”

Apollo nodded. “Thank you, sister,” he whispered meekly. “... I love you.”

Artemis started and turned around. “... Love you too, my brother.” She left the room and was back in a minute with the blanket and a tub of aloe cream. “Here we go. Let’s see that cheek.”

Apollo pulled away from Meg and presented his cheek. Artemis rubbed aloe gently into the burn. “That’s good. That’ll help the cheek. Do you want to try to do your wrists and ankles too, or do you want to keep them bandaged?”

“... Keep them bandaged,” Apollo murmured. “We put aloe on them before. The bandage held the cream in place. It’s fine.”

Artemis nodded. “You’re the healer god here. Not me. I trust you.” She tucked him under the blanket as gently as she could.

Apollo nodded. He didn’t respond. He leaned his head against Meg’s thigh and she pulled his head into her lap, letting him use her soft budding thighs as a pillow. She gently stroked her fingers through his hair. “... Does this feel good?” she whispered.

Apollo nodded. “... Please keep doing that.”

Meg chuckled. “... I will. Don’t worry.”

Apollo nodded, letting his eyes fall closed. He timed the rhythms between her gentle touches, forcing his mind to think of that alone. Not the torture. Not the shackles, not the electricity searing through his body, the thousands of volts that ate him alive, made him convulse and scream and bleed and lose control of his bodily functions. Not Zeus’s dismissive face as it hovered above him, tying him to the wall or knocking him to the floor as he pleased. None of that was real. The only thing that was reality was Meg’s tender hand. And  _ that  _ was something worth being tortured for.

Apollo’s body healed quickly. It was only a few days before the burns had faded to little red marks, even the ones on his ankles and wrists, where the electrified shackles had been placed, had faded almost to nothing. Meg had visited him every day. He couldn’t have been more grateful for her. 

On his last day hiding out in Artemis’s temple, Meg visited one last time. She held a small bouquet of flowers. “... I brought you these. To celebrate your… recovery.”

Apollo took them. Carnations. “What’s… is there a meaning behind…?”

“... Apologies. I’m offering my condolences. I…” Meg looked down. Apollo could sense there was a great sadness weighing on her shoulders. “... I’m sorry.”

Apollo held the flowers, stroking each little bloom. “... Don’t be. Thank you so much, Meg. You… you’ve done everything for me. I’d do anything for you. Okay?” He reached out and touched her cheek. 

Meg held his hand there. “... Okay. I just… to think that… to think that saving me… got you  _ here,  _ it’s… I don’t…” She shook her head. “... I’m sorry.”

“I’d do it again, you know. For you I would.” Apollo took her in a hug, pulling her close. “My dear.”

Meg held him close, resting her head on his shoulder. “... I’m so… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t… rescue you. Like you rescued me. I’m sorry.”

“... It’s all right,” Apollo murmured. “... I’ll live. I’ll be okay.”

“... It’s not okay. It’s not okay that this has to happen to you. It’s not okay.” Meg’s voice broke. “It’s not okay that your father tortures you. It’s not okay that he treats you with so much hatred. It’s not.” 

Apollo’s eyes watered. He didn’t know how to feel. He’d been living with Zeus for millennia. He’d been subject to Zeus’s punishments hundreds of thousands of times. It was always treated like it was no big deal, after all, everyone got beat up by Zeus occasionally. He got beat up, Hermes got beat, Dionysus got beat, even Ares got beat on occasion, although he would fight back. Basically the only one of Zeus’s kids that he didn’t torment was Hephaestus, and no one really had a problem with that guy. Oh, and Artemis, who was his favorite. But to him it was so  _ normal,  _ so  _ internalized _ , that to hear that it  _ wasn’t  _ okay was almost shocking. “... I… thank you, Meg. I… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Meg replied. “I know how hard it is. Just…” She leaned back, looking into his eyes. “... you don’t deserve this, okay? Please, remember that. It’s not your fault. You don’t deserve it.”

Apollo brushed tears from his eyes. “... Can I just… run away with you?”

“Gods, I wish we could. But I think Zeus would smite us both.” Meg took a deep breath. “... I wish I could save you.”

“You already did,” Apollo murmured, bringing his hands up to cup her face. “You’re the reason I’m not just… not just exhausted and devastated right now. You saved me gods know how many times. You’re so brave, dear Meg. You’re everything to me.”

Meg buried her face in his shoulder, holding him close, squeezing him hard. “... Oh, gods, Apollo…”

“My dear.”

“... Come to me if he hurts you again, okay? I’ll make sure you get help. I’ll make sure you’re safe. Okay? Please, I want to help. If you possibly can, I… I want you to come to me.” Meg was almost sobbing.

“I will. I will. I’ll do my best,” Apollo soothed, rubbing patterns on her back. “Oh, my dear.”

“... I’m sorry. I just... I want to help you.”

“You’re doing it,” Apollo murmured, rocking her back and forth. “You’re helping me. Just the fact that you’re here… that helps. That helps so much.”

Meg held him tight. “... I’m so glad. I’m so glad I can… I can help. Even if the help is insignificant.”

“It’s not insignificant to me,” Apollo murmured. “Your caring for me is so… so  _ real,  _ so honest, so beautiful. It… it almost hurts to feel it fully. It’s everything to me.”

Meg didn’t know how to respond. Tears ran down her cheeks into his shoulder. “... I… thank you, Apollo, I…” She laughed through her tears, a nervous laugh. She couldn’t bear the weight of the maelstrom of emotions tearing through her chest, the flattery, the sadness, the protectiveness. “... I’m glad I could make you feel better.”

Apollo nodded. 

“... You’re leaving the temple tonight, right?” Meg asked.

“Yeah. I owe Artemis one. But what else is new?” Apollo sighed. “I’m just glad she isn’t keeping score.”

“Nah. She loves you. Gods just aren’t good at showing it, and she’s the worst of the worst in that regard. But she does love you.”

“... I’m so glad.” Apollo sniffled. “... I love her so much.”

“You should tell her that,” Meg murmured. “You should.”

“I will,” Apollo replied. 

They held each other for a few more minutes. Finally, Meg pulled away. “... Will I see you again soon?”

“You will, my dear. You will. I can promise that, okay?”

Meg nodded. She wiped her eyes on her arm. “... Okay.” She hugged him gently before standing up. “... Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” Apollo murmured. 

“Stay strong. You don’t deserve the abuse. When you see Zeus again… be strong and remember that Artemis and Leto and I all love you, okay? You’re very loved. Don’t let him break you.”

“I won’t,” Apollo whispered. 

At that, Meg left, leaving Apollo alone in the safety of his twin’s temple. Meg’s emotions were a tempest in her chest, it was all she could do to keep from crying. There was a part of her that wanted to run back and beg him to return with her, but she forced herself to keep moving. It wouldn’t be helpful. It wouldn’t help him and it wouldn’t help her. She had to leave him be. She had to hope beyond hope that he’d be okay. She had to hope that Artemis could keep him safe. “... I’m sorry,” she whispered to no one in particular, as if her words could heal the broken world. “... I’m sorry.”

“... Oh, gods, Apollo, I’m so sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, I'm incredibly weak for soft content with these two. Meg and Apollo are precious and they both deserve all the hugs.
> 
> Also, if you get severely burned somehow, DON'T BANDAGE IT RIGHT AWAY. That'll make it worse. Wait for medical personnel to do what they do. They'll tell you when it's okay to put bandages on the wound. Here I was assuming that Apollo got it properly treated before bandaging it.


	68. Frazel- What's A Nude?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hazel asks Frank about something she and Nico saw on the Internet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by something I saw on Pinterest. Tiny short thing I decided to write out.  
> Warnings for Nico having old-fashioned views.

“Frank?” Hazel asked, turning to where Frank was lying in his bed. Nico sat next to her on the floor. Nico was showing her something on a cell phone. It seemed almost miraculous to her, seeing the way his fingers tapped the screen and made things happen.

“Hazel?” Frank replied, curled up in his cloak.

“What’s a nude?”

Frank’s eyes went very large. “... Um. Oh, gods. It’s when… you see, sometimes when two people are trying to court each other online, one of them will… will take a picture of their genitals, or a picture of themselves naked, and send it to the other.”

Hazel wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. Men, am I right?”

“Hey, now,” Frank said. “Both-”

Hazel cut him off with a kiss. “Thank you for being the one good man left on Earth, Frank. Thank you  _ so _ much.”

“... I was gonna say that both men and women do it equally, but you’re welcome,” Frank sighed. 

Nico whipped around.  _ “Really?  _ Gods, maybe there really is a moral decay going on amongst our youth. Son of a…”

“Oh, you’ve never taken a nude?” Hazel snickered dryly. “I’m so surprised.”

Nico continued ranting. “You know, my mother told me that nudity was absolutely sacred. She told me that as soon as I could bathe myself I shouldn’t ever let anyone see me naked until I was either married or dying.  _ Married.  _ And these people are just handing themselves out like… I mean, it’s not even  _ prostitution,  _ it’s just being a whore.”

Hazel put an arm around him. “Chill. It’s… it’s… I mean, it’s their decision. If these people want to hand out their bodies like candy it’s… it’s their choice. You can’t fret over the choices of strangers.”

Nico nodded. “... I suppose you’re right. I shouldn’t be so upset. It’s just… when I… it reminded me of what my mother taught me and when I remember my mother I get upset. That’s all.”

Hazel leaned in and gently kissed his cheek. “Hey. Hey. It’s okay. Come back to us. You’re here now. It’s fine.”

Nico nodded. “No, I know. And I’m sorry for getting so upset.”

Frank reached out and ruffled his hair. “It’s okay, man. Don’t apologize.”

Nico looked at him, a faint spark of gratitude in his dark eyes. “... Thanks.” 

“It’s good,” Frank replied. “It’s good.” 

“But don’t touch my hair,” Nico grumbled. “I work hard to make it look nice.”

“Yes, sir,” Frank laughed. 

“I bet it’s all messed up now,” Nico grumbled. “Now I have to put it up or look like a hobo for the rest of the day.” He tied his hair back with a hair tie he kept on his wrist.

“You look fine,” Hazel reassured. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Also, when you called Frank the last good man on Earth…”

“Oh, please,” Hazel dismissed. “I don’t mean it. Women never mean that sort of thing.”

“Some of them do,” Nico murmured. “The Huntresses do.”

Hazel put two and two together. She leaned in and hugged him from behind. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m not leaving. I have a job and a boyfriend here. I wouldn’t throw them away for some radical group. It’s not worth it to me.”

Nico turned and hugged her hard, squeezing tight, so tight Hazel thought her bones would crack. He leaned his head into her shoulder, shaking his head. “... I love you…” he squeaked. “... I love you so much. I love you.”

“Don’t worry, Nico. I love you too. It’s okay. Don’t cry.”

After a few moments, Nico pulled away. His eyes were wet. “I’m sorry.”

“... It’s okay,” Hazel murmured. She dried his eyes. “It’s okay. You’ve been through a lot. I’m not leaving you.”

Nico took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “... Thank you so much, Hazel, that was… I needed that.” He kissed her cheek.

She noticed suddenly how small his hands were, they were only a tiny bit larger than hers. “Of course,” Hazel replied. “I’m always gonna try and help you when you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a tiny bit lighter than the last one. I wanted to write something a tiny bit lighter.


	69. Some Percabeth- New Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy and Annabeth have heard a lot about Meg and her adventures post-TOA. Annabeth wants to meet her. Percy wants to reconnect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real warnings. Just a brief mention of Meg's backstory. Obviously I'm assuming here that Meg makes it through TON relatively unscathed. Obviously I don't positively know how it'll end.

“Meg.” 

Meg heard the voice behind her and turned. She was helping with the strawberry harvest. Chiron had told her that the Demeter kids always did that, and she’d kind of accepted it. So she’d put on a pair of crappy overalls that Miranda had given her and went out to work the fields. So far, she thought she’d eaten more than she’d picked.

She swallowed the one that was currently in her mouth and turned to look at the figure that was casting a shadow over her. “Percy?”

Percy sat down in the dirt next to her. He looked… much more human than the last time she’d seen him. More on her level. Less like a godlike figure. “Yeah. It’s me. How are you? I heard… I heard stories of your adventures with Apollo.”

Meg nodded. “... It’s still… I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“No, I get it. It’s totally understandable,” Percy smiled. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Meg sat next to him. “I’m okay. You want… you want a strawberry?”

“Ooh, thank you,” Percy smiled, taking the red berry from her hand and eating it. 

“... If you want your shirt back…” Meg started tentatively.

“Let me guess, Apollo still has it?”

Meg nodded, not wanting to make eye contact. If Percy was gonna start hitting her, she didn’t want to see the punch coming. “... Yeah. He does. I still have… I still have your mom’s dress. It’s ripped and dirty but I have it if you want it.”

“... My mom actually told me to tell you to keep it,” Percy chuckled. “She said that she won’t lose the pregnancy weight for a while anyway.”

“... Did the baby come out okay?” Meg asked.

“Yeah! Yeah, she’s fine. Totally intact and healthy.”

“Your mom okay?”

“Yeah. She was… she was a little… I don’t know. She was a little off for a month or so but I think she’s okay now,” Percy replied. “I was real worried for her, though.” He paused for a long time. “... Although maybe I worry for her too much.”

“I mean, she’s a grown woman. She can take care of herself,” Meg assured.

“... Yeah,” Percy nodded. “... Doesn’t mean I don’t worry for her, though.”

Meg scanned his face. She nodded. “... Anyway, why did you want to talk to me?”

“Well, partially the shirt, which it looks like I’m gonna have to fight Apollo for. The other half was just to make sure you were alright,” Percy said. “I know that… that adventuring can wear on you.”

Meg blushed. “Well… I’m flattered. But I’m intact. No missing limbs. No missing head. No missing organs. I’m okay.”

“That’s good to hear,” Percy laughed. He ate another strawberry off the bush. 

Meg watched his lips curve around the sweet red berry. “... Yeah.”

“How old are you, by the way?” Percy asked. 

“I’m thirteen. I was twelve when we met.”

“Twelve? Hey!” Percy grinned. “I was twelve when I went on my first adventure.”

Meg smiled. “... Wow. That’s a weird coincidence. It’s almost like there’s someone up there that really likes twelve-year-olds.”

“Yeah. It’s Zeus.” Percy paused. “... Oooh, you meant for  _ adventuring.  _ Yeah, that is weird.”

“Oh gods,” Meg laughed. “Oh, no.”

“... Yeah,” Percy nodded. “... Actually, there is one other reason I wanted to talk to you. Annabeth wanted to meet you.”

“... Anna-- oh.  _ Her.  _ Annabeth  _ Chase.  _ Okay. Yeah, I’ve heard the stories. Um… I…” She nervously ate a strawberry. “Uh. Is there…”

“I mean, I could tell her that you don’t want to talk to her, but she wouldn’t be happy.”

“... Uh. Oookay. How about this? Tell Miranda I have to go help you with something instead of managing the strawberry harvest with my sisters. That way she can beat your ass instead of mine.”

“I don’t think Miranda’s the ass-beating type. From what I’ve seen, Miranda’s pretty gentle. But sure, I’ll tell her,” Percy agreed. He stood up, vaulting a row of strawberry bushes and running off.

Meg picked a few more berries and put them in her basket. She was nervous. Sure, maybe Miranda wasn’t the ass-beating type. But from what she’d seen, Annabeth absolutely was. 

Percy returned, Miranda at his heels. “Meg,” Miranda greeted. “Can I have your basket? I’m gonna put it in our wheelbarrow so no one accidentally steps on them.”

Meg nodded. “Okay.” She handed Miranda the basket.

Miranda inspected the berries. “Good job. These look great. You’re a real good worker, Meg.”

Meg blushed deeply. “... Thanks.”

Miranda smiled. She looked so sweet, how could she be dating someone like  _ Sherman?  _ “You’re welcome. I gotta go. Enjoy meeting Annabeth,” she laughed, running away on graceful legs. 

“... I will,” Meg murmured. She stood up and moved towards Percy. “... Is Annabeth mad at me? Is that why she wants to meet me?”

“No. She’s curious about the girl who made Apollo her bitch for three or four months,” Percy laughed.

Meg laughed. “Honestly, I thought it would be funny.”

“Tell her that,” Percy laughed. “She’d get a kick out of it.”

Meg nodded. The mere mention of Annabeth made her nervous. “... I will.”

“Good,” Percy laughed. He led her into an area of secluded beach. A girl with curly blonde hair was standing there, arms crossed across her chest. Meg got a sudden mental image of a woman waiting for her husband to come home from the sea, mournful and hopeful at the same time.

Then Percy called “Hey, Annabeth?” and she turned around. Meg forced herself not to hide behind Percy. Her face was stern and intense, her eyes were gray as steel and her lips were set in a thin line. 

Then she lay eyes on Percy and her entire face changed immediately. Her eyes lit up and a bright smile dominated her face. “Percy!” She ran up and kissed his cheek. “Gods, I was starting to think you’d wandered off.”

“Not this time,” Percy laughed. “Fortunately. Anyway…” He stepped back and gestured to Meg. “This is the Meg McCaffrey we’ve all been talking about.”

Annabeth looked down. Meg was suddenly very aware of how far Annabeth had to look down in order to meet her eyes. “... Meg. Gods, you’re… quite unassuming.”

Meg blushed. “Um. I’ve… I’ve heard the opposite my whole life, in fact.”

Annabeth grinned. “That’s a good thing. Trust me. And if anything, it’s good that you look so unassuming at first. It makes people think you’re less of a deal than you are.”

Meg nodded. “... I can see that, yeah.”

She giggled. “Gods, you’re so  _ little.  _ You’re like the smallest thing I’ve ever seen.” She ruffled Meg’s hair.

“I’m not little. I’m… never mind,” Meg grumbled. She shuffled her feet.

“So… how’d you meet Apollo?” Annabeth asked. 

“... He fell into a Dumpster outside where I was staying and immediately got his nose busted in a fight with some street thugs. I felt bad and chased them off with some… some fruit that I’d stolen that had rotted under my bed. Anyway, he said he was a god looking for a master and I just proclaimed myself his master. I thought it would be funny. Anyway, I just… I just ran away with him,” Meg sighed.

“No questions asked?”

“I mean, I’d been told about demigods before.”

“Oh. By your father?”

Meg felt an acute pain in her ribcage. She nodded mutely.

“... Bad family situation?” Annabeth guessed.

The softness in her voice wasn’t lost on Meg. “... You could say that,” Meg murmured.

“... I’m sorry,” Annabeth murmured. She patted Meg’s back. “Well, you’re safe here. You’ve got a safe home here.”

Meg nodded. “... I know.”

“Good. Anyway, they said you were a  _ Demeter  _ kid?”

“... Yeah,” Meg mumbled. 

“That’s different. I’ve never seen a Demeter kid become a heroine of prophecy. I mean, it’s not completely unheard of, but it doesn’t happen every day,” Annabeth mused. 

“... I guess so,” Meg shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know how the gods choose who their heroes are. I mean, for me, I just… I kind of got involved by chance, so… either the Fates had something planned or I just got lucky.”

“Sometimes it’s like that,” Annabeth agreed. “Anyway, I just hope Apollo wasn’t too obnoxious to be with. I’ve heard he can be a little… you know.”

“No, he really can be obnoxious. And he’s done some terrible things. But… as far as gods go? He’s not even close to the worst. And he was always really nice to me. And honestly? He’s a pretty good friend,” Meg concluded. “We still Iris-message every night.”

“Well, I’m glad he was good to you,” Annabeth agreed. “I didn’t think Apollo would do anything too stupid, I mean, he’s not usually one to attack unprovoked, but you know. Can’t be too careful.”

Meg nodded. “No, yeah, I get it.”

“Of course,” Annabeth nodded. “Anyway, I’m sorry to keep you when you have a strawberry harvest to help with. I just wanted to meet the one and only… what do they call you?  _ Crotchkicker McCaffrey?” _

“Yeah. I kicked Sherman Yang in the gonads and they’ve called me that ever since.”

Percy laughed. “Oh, man. Was he trying to stick your head in a toilet?”

“Yeah, actually, why?”

“Because his sister Clarisse did the same thing for me.”

“Was  _ that  _ where the blowing-up-toilets thing came from?” Meg asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” Percy replied.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Annabeth confirmed. “It was. I never did forgive him for drenching me in sewage.”

“Hey. Clarisse doesn’t have any nuts to get kicked in,” Percy defended. “Anyway, Meg and I are freakishly similar. We both got here at age 12, we both permanently antagonized an older Ares kid within minutes of our arrival…”

“The only difference is that the Ares kid here is dating my sister,” Meg chuckled uneasily. “Which I didn’t know until I got back post-quest.”

“Was Miranda mad?” Annabeth asked. 

“Nah. She just looked… well, she was actually upset with Sherman for trying to stick my head in the toilet. But she just seemed saddened by the whole thing. I mean, she’s so…”

“Fragile?” Annabeth suggested.

“Yeah. I don’t even know how she got so far being this fragile.”

“She’s tougher than people give her credit for,” Annabeth defended. 

“Guess she has to be,” Meg shrugged. “I mean, there’s no other way. Anyway, I gotta go back to the girl who’s dating the guy I kicked in the nuts. I owe her a strawberry harvest.”

“Yeah, I won’t keep you. Nice to meet you. See you later,” Annabeth laughed.

“Seeya,” Meg replied, leaving for the fields. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“See you at dinner, Meg,” Percy replied. 

Meg felt a funny warmth in her chest as she walked back to the strawberry fields. She figured she’d made a friend. Maybe two. That didn’t happen much for her, especially not when her new friends were two literally legendary figures. But then again, she’d befriended a god. It wasn’t too much to befriend two powerful demigods. Or at least, that’s what she told herself. 

She hoped it was what was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meg is bb  
> Also, is something special about this day? May 2nd? I feel like it's a special day somehow for someone.


	70. Non-shippy- "Why Doesn't Miranda Ever Show Up At Meals?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg's worried about Miranda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a companion piece to "The Things Love Can Overlook," another thing I wrote. You don't necessarily need to read it to understand this, but it might help. Just know that this (and TTLCO) both deal with an anorexic Miranda. If that's upsetting to you, don't read.

“Billie?”

“Uh huh?” Billie and Meg were lying on the floor of the Demeter cabin beneath the tree. 

“Why doesn’t Miranda ever show up at meals?” Meg was awkwardly ripping out buttercups. She’d originally intended to make a flower crown, but she realized very quickly that she had no idea how to actually make one, so she’d settled for making a big pile of dying flowers. 

Billie got a weird look on her face. “... She never told me why. I don’t question her.”

Meg didn’t know how to interpret her expression. “... Why not?”

Billie was silent for a long time. “... I lied. I did ask her once. She told me... she told me not to speak out over my station. She said I could ask her such questions once I was a head counselor in my own right.” 

Meg paused for a very long time. “... Wow. I… that’s a little… unlike her. I mean… she’s normally so sweet. She’s not the type to just tell someone to fuck off like that.”

Billie nodded. “Yeah. It’s not her normal behavior.”

Meg shrugged. “We should confront her on it.”

Billie sighed. “I don’t think it’s that easy. I don’t think she wants to be confronted.”

Meg looked down. “... Why not? I mean, if she’s on some kind of diet… I mean, normally people  _ brag  _ about that sort of thing.”

“If she is on a diet, it’s rapidly becoming a starvation one. Skipping one meal a day once in a while is a diet. Skipping three meals in a row is self-inflicted starvation,” Billie snorted.

Meg was silent for a long time. “Why would she do that?”

Billie shrugged. “Maybe she thinks she’s fat.”

“She’s not, though,” Meg insisted. “She’s really not.”

“I know,” Billie sighed. “But… I think she has some sort of compulsion. Meal skipping compulsion.”

Meg nodded. “... I still think we should confront her on it.”

Billie sighed. “I’m letting you handle that. I don’t want to get yelled at again.”

Meg nodded. “Yeah. I’ve… I’ve met worse than Miranda. I can handle her.”

“Good. I’m gonna go shower up. I’m still all dirty from working in the strawberry fields and I don’t want to get the dirt in my bed.”

“You’re so clean,” Meg murmured, almost in awe. 

“I mean, my father always told me that no matter how dirty you get, your bed should stay clean. He thought beds were sacred,” Billie explained, pulling a pair of pink sleep shorts and a T-shirt that simply read A.R.M.Y out of her footlocker. “The habit kind of stuck, even after he passed.”

Meg nodded. “I guess old habits die hard.”

Billie looked up. “I guess so.” She sighed. “I’ll see you after my shower. Enjoy your fight with Miranda.”

“Will do,” Meg laughed. Billie walked into the bathroom. Meg heard her close the door. Meg nervously picked a few more buttercups before yanking out a lone dandelion that had wormed its way about the roots of a tree.  _ Damn things.  _

The door opened. Meg looked up. It was Miranda. Her face was pink. Meg noticed her prominent collarbones. “Hey, Meg.”

“Miranda,” Meg started. “Can we talk?”

Miranda sat down next to her, her deep leafy green eyes sparkling in the light. “Of course, Meg. What’s wrong?”

“I… Miranda, I… why weren’t you at dinner today? Or lunch? Or breakfast?” 

Miranda’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not any of your business, Meg.”

“But… Miranda, I… I… I’m worried.”

Miranda pulled her close. “You’re sweet, but I don’t want you to worry about me. Billie’s paranoid, okay? She put bad thoughts in your head. She’s making you think I’m hurting myself when I’m not.”

Meg relaxed into the touch. “... Okay. Just… tell me if… tell me if you need anything, okay?”

Miranda ruffled her hair, releasing her. “Will do, Meg.”

Meg smiled up at her as she kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed. “Thanks, Miranda.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I can write more today/soon. Writing these things helps with stress, and I kind of need that right now.  
> Also, all I know about K-Pop is that BTS fans call themselves the A.R.M.Y. So don't get your hopes up. Also, I don't know shit about BTS or any other K-Pop band. Also, BTS is the only K-Pop band I can name.  
> Also also, Billie is described as looking like a K-Pop idol, so I just assumed that that meant that she was a K-Pop head.


	71. Mitchell x Clovis x Pollux- Squishy Boy/Sleepyhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clovis feels disgusting. He's pudgy and narcoleptic and he thinks he looks like a pig.   
> Mitchell and Pollux help him feel a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clovis calls himself a retard. Also, internalized fat shaming (is that even a thing? idk). Also, very slight internalized homophobia. But it's only like one comment. Just tagging it because I know how triggered some people get around this subject.

Clovis climbed out of the shower in Pollux’s apartment, deliberately not looking at himself as he wrapped himself in a towel. He couldn’t look at himself, the cellulosic fat that bulged on his belly, his wide thighs, round face, the soft fat under his chin. He kept his eyes closed as he dressed, pulling his shirt and pants on by feel. Not looking at the XXL tag on his sweats. Not looking at the shirt that he’d stolen off Pollux, who was several inches taller than him yet his shirts fit Clovis perfectly.

He finally opened his eyes, gazing at his own reflection in the full-length mirror.  _ Gods, I’m disgusting. Look at all of this fucking fat. When you die, they’ll cut you open and find fucking nothing but adipose tissue. Nothing but slime. They won’t even be able to burn your body, you’ll burn so hot you’ll light the entire goddamn amphitheatre on fire. So disgusting. You look like a pig. Where’s your mud puddle, piggy? Look at you, all your slimy white fat. Ugliest damn thing in the world. Disfigured bastard. Maybe if you didn’t eat like a goddamn rhinoceros you wouldn’t look like this. Repulsive. _

_ I mean, seriously, why does anyone love you? You know no one likes a fat kid. You’re never gonna be anything more than a burden to Mitchell and Pollux. You’re an obese, parasitic, disfigured, narcoleptic freak. Just throw yourself out the window and die. Oh, wait, you’d get stuck. _

_ Pig. _

“... Hey, man, you okay?” came a sudden voice from his left. Clovis turned. Mitchell was leaning against the doorframe, his sleek black hair tied back, his dark eyes gleaming like pools of ink. “I heard you… like… breathing all funny.”

“And you were worried because you thought I had finally succumbed to an obesity-induced heart attack? Or did you just assume that my crippled, retarded ass had eaten the tile again?” Clovis blurted, not really registering what he was saying.

Mitchell gave him a look as if Clovis had just punched him in the gut. “... No, I… I was worried you were… I thought…” He sniffled, his eyes welling, wet and shiny. “... I was worried you were upset.”

Clovis didn’t respond. He closed his eyes. “... I’m sorry. Go get some chocolate, okay? It’ll make you feel better.”

“We don’t have any. I ate all the M&Ms yesterday.” Mitchell wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “Also, I…” He scanned Clovis’s face. “... I don’t think you’re crippled or retarded or… at risk of a heart attack.” Mitchell moved towards him, leaning against him, holding his hand. “... You’re… I love you.”

Clovis felt a sting in his eyes. “... I…”  _ No. No. This is wrong. No one loves a fat kid. No one loves a narcoleptic kid. No one loves a dyslexic kid. No one loves…  _ you,  _ retard.  _ He wiped the tears on the sleeve of his oversized sweatshirt. “... I love you too, Mitch.”

Mitchell studied his face, noticing the watery gleam in those beautiful hazel orbs. “... Let’s go lie down. Pollux is wine drunk and sleepy, he could use some cuddles.”

Clovis nodded. He didn’t have the energy to resist.  _ You’re so disgusting. Don’t you fucking dare lie down in his bed. All you’re gonna do is crowd Pollux out. You won’t provide a speck of comfort to him. Gods, why don’t you just die? _

Mitchell led him to Pollux’s bed. Pollux was splayed out like a starfish in the king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling. A half-drunk cup of wine sat on the nightstand. “Mitchie,” he slurred, holding his arms out. “Show me my little boy.”

Mitchell pushed Clovis out in front of him. “Here he is.”

Pollux held out his arms. “C’mere. Cuddles. I want your squishy self.”

Clovis blushed. He sat down on the very edge of Pollux’s bed, not daring to sit down fully. “... Here I am.”

Pollux looped an arm around his hips. “Squishy booooy…” Pollux cooed. 

“... Don’t,” Clovis murmured. “... Don’t.”

Pollux pouted. “But you’re so cute.” He reached up and touched Clovis’s nose. “You’re all round and squishy and cute. Like a kitten.”

“Please shut up,” Clovis groaned. “I know you’re drunk, but please, don’t.”

Pollux nodded. He held out his arms. “Cuddles.”

Clovis relented. He lay down and put his head on Pollux’s chest, feeling the definition of his muscles, well-built and well-kept. It only made Clovis more sore. “Happy?”

“Happy,” Pollux agreed, cuddling Clovis close. “You’re so pretty.”

“No I’m not. I’m fat and ugly,” Clovis insisted. 

“You’re not ugly. You’re chonky. You’re a chonky boy,” Pollux giggled.

Mitchell poked Clovis’s belly. “Yeah, Clovis. You’re not ugly. You’re cute and squishy. And you do so much for both of us. We both love you to pieces.” Mitchell leaned in and kissed Clovis’s neck. “Please, don’t think such terrible things about yourself.” 

Clovis’s eyes welled. “... But… I… I…”

“Shush,” Mitchell replied, crossing over Pollux and lying down with his head on his chest, holding Clovis’s hand. “Don’t cry. It’s okay. We don’t think you’re fat or useless or anything. You cure our nightmares and cuddle us when we’re sad and make us feel good. We love you, okay?”

“... I don’t deserve either of you,” Clovis whispered. “A fat narcoleptic retard like me shouldn’t get… shouldn’t be loved like this.” A few helpless tears dripped into Pollux’s shirt, only serving to make him feel more useless, more weak. 

“And neither should a germaphobic insomniac suicidal freak like me,” Mitchell replied, kissing Clovis’s soft pudgy fingers. “And yet you’ve treated me with more kindness than anyone. Clovis, I’d be an ass to not return the favor.”

“He’s right,” Pollux slurred sleepily. “... I mean, technically, a depressed pansexual PTSD bastard who can’t even get out of bed most days--me, myself, I-- doesn’t deserve love either, but you give it, Clovis. We love you, squishy boy. The squish only makes the hugs sweeter.” He held Clovis a little tighter. 

Clovis snuggled into the touch, closing his eyes. He couldn’t help it. Pollux’s embrace was so gentle, he wanted to feel it as strongly as he could. “... I… I don’t know what to say. I… I love you two. I’d do anything for either of you.”

Clovis felt Mitchell kiss his lips. “We love you too, sleepyhead. Would you feel better if I brought you your special pillow?”

Clovis nodded. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah.”

Mitchell placed Clovis’s fluffy pillow against Pollux’s chest. “Is that better?”

Clovis moved it so it was under his neck, supporting his body as he lay on Pollux’s chest. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Mitchell lay back down, cuddling close. “What did your mom say about that pillow again? That it was magical?”

“Yeah. She said that that particular pillow would heal any bad thoughts you may have,” Clovis laughed. “She said if you slept on that pillow every night you’d never have to worry about mental health issues.”

Pollux’s chest rumbled with laughter. “That’s such hokum. I mean, if it makes you feel better, then sure, but still, that’s such hokum.”

“Hey, don’t say those types of things,” Mitchell grumbled. “Clovis’s mom is like the sweetest lady ever.”

“I never said she wasn’t. I just said that her idea was bunk.”

“I mean, she made it up because I was going through some stuff and she didn’t know how else to make it better,” Clovis murmured. “But sure, whatever you say.”

“Oh. Well, that’s really sweet. Never mind what I said,” Pollux murmured.

Clovis nodded. “Mhm.” He nuzzled Pollux’s chest, sniffling. Pollux smelled like spiked punch, sweet with an alcoholic sting behind it. Clovis wanted to stay there and smell it forever. Mitchell’s small hand was curled in his, small soft bony fingers laced between Clovis’s pudgy ones. He opened one eye to see Mitchell’s beautiful inky black hair spread across Pollux’s chest, his eyes closed, a sweet and peaceful expression on his face. In that moment, Clovis would have done anything for either of them, just to stay in this peace forever, just to gaze upon Mitchell’s beauty forever, just to feel Pollux’s soft chest, his heartbeat, beneath his head forever.

“... I love you two,” he whispered. “I do. I love you two. Thank you so much for… for keeping me.”

“No prob,” Pollux murmured, giving Clovis a slight squeeze. “Anything for you, squishy boy.”

“I love you too,” Mitchell whispered. “Pollux does too. We love you. We’d never turn you out. Never. Not because of your weight, your narcolepsy, your dyslexia, anything.”

Clovis squeezed Mitchell’s hand tightly. “... Thank you. Thank you both so much.”

“... You’re welcome, squishy boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I don't support bullying people because of their weight, I also don't support becoming fat if you can avoid it. Stay healthy, friends. Or try to. Or don't. I don't control your life.


	72. Some Solangelo- "I Just Felt Him Die"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just realized I never wrote a drabble where Nico finds out about Jason's death. This is tragic. I rectify it here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason is dead. Nico cries a lot. One basically empty suicide threat.

Nico woke to the screams in his head. 

He felt the buzzing in his ears immediately, shrill as a whistle. A splitting pain shot through his head, jolting him into consciousness. A flash of images shot across his eyes, blood on a young man’s chest, dripping over the floor of a gilded room. He saw Jason’s face, a flash of agony passed through his beautiful blue eyes before going glassy, his lips parted slightly and his skin drained of color. Nico howled despite himself. 

Nico stared around as his vision returned to showing views of the familiar Hades cabin, feeling tears begin to creep down his cheeks as the ringing in his ears faded.  _ He’s gone. He’s gone. Oh, fuck. Jason. Jason’s gone. I felt it. I just felt Jason die. Oh, gods. I just felt him die. And I wasn’t there with him. I wasn’t there to save him or comfort him in his last moments or even give him last rites. Oh, gods.  _ Nico felt his chest begin to tremble, a cry escaped his lips. He coughed hard, gagging, stumbling out of his bed before his ferocious coughing sent him down on his knees. He gagged hard, but nothing came up. Whatever was in his stomach felt like a dead weight. Despite all of his howling and gagging, he couldn’t empty it.  _ Jason. Jason. Oh, gods. I loved him. I loved him so much. He was the best friend I’ve ever had. Oh, Jason, please, come back, I  _ need  _ you, I need you, I need you so much…  _

Nico dragged himself over to his father’s shrine, falling on it, leaning his head on it. He couldn’t breathe through his sobs. “Father,” he whispered. “Father. Father. I… I… I don’t… why? Why did you… why was he… why was he… taken? I…” Nico gave a violently jerky gasp. “Ple-ease, Father, I… I  _ need  _ him, he’s my… he’s my best friend, I… I can’t lose him! Ple-ea-ase!” Nico’s voice broke into sobs. He couldn’t stop hyperventilating. 

“Son.” A stern yet gentle voice called from everywhere at once. 

Nico hiccuped, biting his lip hard. He didn’t want to cry in front of Hades. “... Father,” he managed. 

Hades was silent for a very long time before reaching out to gently ruffle Nico’s hair. “... I’m sorry, my son.”

“If you’re really sorry, bring him back!” Nico shouted, swatting away Hades’s hand. 

“You know as well as I do that I can’t just  _ reject  _ the laws of death, my son,” Hades murmured gently. “If you would like to summon him, just to say goodbye…”

Nico plugged his ears. “It’s because he’s a son of Zeus, isn’t it? You’d let me bring him back if he wasn’t a son of Zeus!”

“Son, I…”

“Go! Go away! Leave me alone! I don’t want you here anymore!”

“Nico…” Hades started firmly.

“Go away! Go away or I’ll… I’ll… I’ll…” He grabbed his sword, clutching the hilt tightly. “... I’ll kill myself. Right here and right now.”

Hades nodded stiffly. “Goodbye, my son.”

Nico kept his eyes closed and ears plugged, sobbing, gasping, heaving.  _ Jason. Jason. Oh, gods, Jason.  _ He slumped to the floor, feeling the cold tile against his shoulders, the coldness worming its way into his skin, making him tremble. Oh, gods, he was so cold. He would have given anything to get one of Jason’s warm, secure bear hugs. Those tender embraces he was always spurning when Jason was alive.  _ Oh, gods, Jason, Jason, I’m so sorry, I only wish I accepted more of your hugs in life, more cuddles. I wish I had let you hug me more. Jason. Oh, gods.  _ He screamed into the emptiness of the cabin, howling into the void, screaming nothing, just an endless series of “oooh, gods” and nonsense yowls. He had a sudden memory of Bianca telling him that he sounded like a wounded dog when he cried. 

That only made him cry harder.

The stone walls echoed his sobs back at him, his own wails eked past the fingers he still held in his ears and wormed into his brain. He unplugged his ears and pulled at his hair, slashed at it with the blade of his sword, small broken strands of raven black fell over his fingers and peppered on the floor. He squeezed the blade of his sword, squeezed it until the pressure became unbearable, squeezed it until he felt sharp pains in his skin, felt moisture dripping on his palm. Blood. He was bleeding. He wiped his bloody hand on his shirt.

He finally opened his eyes. The cabin was empty once more. No Hades. He slowly picked his way to his feet, shakily, still trembling and crying. He pulled on his jacket, hugging himself as he stumbled outside, falling to his knees in the shady little alley behind the cabin.  _ Hades was right. As much as I despise him for rejecting Jason for being a son of Zeus, I need to summon him back. I do. I need one more talk with him. One more hug. I need that. _

_ I need that so bad.  _

He pulled out a cookie he’d been storing in the pocket of his jacket and started the ritual. He barely got through the chant. His voice was shaking so badly, the tears that choked in his throat made it almost impossible to speak. “... Jason,” he whispered. “Show me Jason Grace.”

The mist coalesced in front of him, forming a kneeling figure. A familiar glasses-wearing face appeared. “... Nico? What…?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just enjoy your cookie, you self-sacrificial fuck.” Nico’s stomach sunk at the words coming from his mouth. He  _ never  _ swore. His mother had always told him it was one of the most disgusting habits a young man could pick up. And yet here he was, swearing at Jason’s ghost.

“... Are you crying?” he asked. 

“... No,” Nico sniffled, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “Jason, do you know that you’re…”

“Dead? Yeah, I gathered that,” Jason replied. “Last thing I remember is being stabbed in the gut. Guess this one hit something vital,” he shrugged. 

“... Who killed you?” Nico sniffled, feeling a few more tears trace down his cheeks.

“The Emperors. The ones Meg and Apollo are going to defeat. The ones you’re  _ not  _ going to charge out and try to defeat in my honor.”

“... So you don’t want to be avenged?” Nico sobbed. “What the fuck kind of mindset is that?”

“No, I want the emperors to be defeated. For everyone else’s safety. For me it doesn’t matter. I’m dead. I’m in Elysium already. At this point, whatever I want is solely for my living friends. But I don’t want it to be by you. You… you’ve done enough. You’ve been through so much.” Jason reached out and brushed the tears off of Nico’s cheek. “You deserve a break.”

Nico leaned into the touch. “Then… then what am I supposed to do? What could… what could I do to… to make you happy in death? To honor you?”

Jason softly stroked a thumb over Nico’s cheekbone. “... If you really want to make me happy… well… Apollo’s handling the stuff with the gods. My old Roman counterparts probably have my body. I’m sure… I’m confident they can carry out the rebuilding of the temples that I wanted them to do. They’re determined workers, I know that they can handle it. As for you… if you really want to make me happy…” 

“Tell me what to do,” Nico begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

“... Live the kind of life that makes  _ you  _ happy,” Jason murmured. “I want to see you happy. I want… if I have to die, and you have to live, then I want you to be happy in my stead. I want you to do all the things that I won’t be able to-- get an education, fall in love, make friends. Maybe get married someday if situations permit.”

Nico sobbed again, gasping softly. “... Oh, gods, Jason…”

Jason reached out. Nico flopped into his arms, using his powers, making him solid enough to hold, cling to, one last desperate moment before it was all gone forever. “... Hey… don’t cry,” Jason whispered. “I don’t want you to cry for me. I want you to be happy.”

“... I miss you,” Nico gurgled. “I miss you so much. I… I’m so sorry, I know you… you don’t want me to cry, but… it… it hurts so, so much…”

“... I’m sorry,” Jason murmured. “... I’m so, so sorry, Nico.”

Nico pulled away, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “... Why?” he whispered. “Why did you… I know you sacrificed yourself. Why?”

“Because Meg and Apollo would have gotten killed if I hadn’t. Apollo’s a god, even if he is currently mortal. Meg is… she’s a precious little thing, really. I couldn’t live with myself if I let either of them die. Besides…” Jason heaved a breath. “... It’s not like… I mean, Piper didn’t want me. I was doing terribly in school. What did I have to live for?”

“... Eve-ry-thing,” Nico sobbed. “Everything, Jason. You had… oh, gods, you were only sixteen, Jason, you had the whole rest of your  _ life _ to look forward to. I don’t give a rat’s ass as to what Piper did. There were other girls who would have given their right arms to be with you.”

“... You’re sweet,” Jason murmured. “... I… I don’t know what to say. I don’t… I’m sorry. I… I didn’t want to hurt you. Never.”

Nico put his head in his hands. “... I know. I know. You’re the nicest guy… you’re one of the most genuinely good, perfect men I’ve ever met. You would never hurt anyone on purpose.”

“... Thanks,” Jason whispered. “... Thank you, Nico.” He flickered hard. “Oh… what’s…”

“... I can’t hold you here for very much longer,” Nico sniffled, lifting his head to meet Jason’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Elysium is nice. There are… I’ve got some old friends here. I’m not too lonely.” He flickered again, longer this time. “Uh… I’m sorry, Nico. Don’t… don’t cry too hard for me. I want to be among your happy memories, okay?”

Nico closed his eyes. He thought back to his mother’s smile, Bianca’s hugs, things that were happy memories at the time but hurt too much to remember now. “... Okay,” he whispered. “Goodbye, Jason.”

He sat there in silence for a long time, kneeling behind the cabin, tears tracing over his cheeks.  _ How? How can I be happy when you’re gone? How can I be happy when I think of you if we’ll never meet again? How will your sweet smile be among my happy memories if I’ll never see it again? How will your hugs be among my happy memories if I’ll never feel your arms around me again, your head resting on mine? How will your voice, all of our talks be among my happy memories if I will never hear you speak again? Oh, gods, Jason, I don’t even have anything to remember you by. I have no silver skull ring from you. I have no little Mythomagic figurine. You did not determine the shape of my eyes, the curve of my lip in the way that my mother did. I can look at my own face and see my mother, my hand and see my sister. There’s nothing I can look at and think of you, hold and remember. Oh, gods, Jason. _

“... Nico?” a quiet voice came from the side. “... Was that…”

Nico opened his eyes. Will was there. “... Yeah,” he whispered, his voice violently hoarse in his ears. “... It’s Jason. He’s… gone. As of about a half hour ago.”

Will sat down next to him. “... Oh, gods,” he whispered. “What…”

“Sacrificed himself. For your father. And Meg.”

Will reached out and brushed a tear off of his cheek. “... I’m so… I’m so sorry, darlin’. I know you two were close. I… I’m so sorry.”

Nico let Will touch him. “... I…”

“... May I hold you? I know you… you don’t normally like being touched, but I feel like…”

Nico lunged and grabbed Will, throwing his arms around Will’s neck, whimpering. Will held him in return, gently rubbing over Nico’s spine, up and down in a slow, soft rhythm. Nico let his tears fall into Will’s shoulder. Will didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He understood that whatever he said would only deepen the wound. After all, it wasn’t okay. Jason was dead. There was nothing Will could do to fix that. And he knew that so soon after an injury of that level Nico wouldn’t want to hear about moving on, or the future. He wanted to let the wound bleed. And all Will could do was cradle him against the agony, rock him gently, stroke his back and hair.

It felt like an eternity before Nico pulled away, picked his head up, met Will’s eyes. Nico’s eyes were bloodshot, his face was blotchy. “... You know, Jason was the first person who found out about… me.”

“You mean…?” 

“Yeah,” Nico confirmed. “He helped me. He helped me basically more than anyone had ever helped me with anything. And that’s… that’s why I had so much respect for him. That’s why I cared for him so much. So… in a way… Jason’s why I have you. That’s what he left me. He didn’t leave me a ring or a figurine or… my facial features and body. He left me a gift that could hold me in his stead.”

Will had lost the plot about halfway through what Nico had said. “... And hold you in his stead I will, darlin’.” Will held out his arms for another hug.

Nico accepted the hug, gentler this time, less sobbing, less clinging, less furious grief. “... Thanks,” he murmured. “I know I don’t usually… I know I’m being… unusually clingy, but… Jason, he always… he always wanted to hug me. I almost never let him.”

“And you’re regretting that now?”

Nico nodded into Will’s shoulder, a few more tears slipping out. 

“... I’m sorry,” Will murmured. 

Nico pulled away. “Yeah… take hugs, I guess. You never know when you won’t get any more.”

Will wiped his tears, his fingers tender over Nico’s cheeks. “That’s a very healthy way of looking at this, Nico. I was expecting more yelling and screaming from you.”

“... Jason told me not to… not to run out in search of revenge,” Nico sniffled. “So… I’m letting your dad handle it. I guess… I can’t argue with Jason’s own wishes. Sure, if I were in a room with those emperors I’d tear them limb from limb. But… that’s not what he wanted. And I… I love him too much to violate his last wish.”

Will nodded. “That makes sense. I’m glad you’re not… any angrier than anyone else would be.”

“Oh, I’m furious. I’m just more sad than angry,” Nico sniffled. “Oh, gods, I have no idea how I’m gonna tell the others. I don’t want to cry in front of… anybody but you, really.”

“I’ll tell them,” Will murmured. “You just rest. I’ll tell everyone and then I’ll come back and hold you while you cry out your pains on my shoulder.”

“That sounds like saddening, agonizing work,” Nico sighed.

“Not if it’s you,” Will murmured. “Oh, darlin’, I’d do anything for you.”

Nico blushed. He felt a sudden urge to kiss Will, but he stifled it. “... Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely, taking one of Will’s hands in his own, stroking the tanned freckled fingers. “... Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.” Will leaned in and kissed Nico’s cheek. Nico marveled at the softness of his lips, the gentleness of the press. “You’re always welcome, darlin’. Now, where can I take you where you’ll feel comfy?”

Nico blushed. “... I… I don’t care.”

“No, really. I want you to tell me where you want to be. Even if it’s inconvenient,” Will murmured, putting his other hand over Nico’s, his hand carrying the warmth of a miniature sun in its velvety palm. 

“... Can I go to the Apollo cabin? Now that your father is… mortal? I… I want to… to sleep in your bed,” Nico murmured ashamedly.

“Of course, darlin’,” Will soothed. “You can cuddle in my bed all day. I’ll come back and cuddle with you.”

Nico blushed, leaning in and giving Will a brief kiss on his cheek once he was sure no one else was there. “Thank you so much.”

Will touched his freckle-dusted cheek where Nico’s lips had been. “Let’s go, then, darlin’.” He stood up, extending his hand to Nico.

Nico took it, letting Will pull him to his feet. He continued to hold Will’s hand as they walked to the Apollo cabin. Nico kept his eyes cast down. He didn’t want to see anyone else. Whatever people thought of him, of them, Nico didn’t want to know. Will led him into the Apollo cabin, empty in midday. Nico kicked off his shoes and lay down in Will’s bed, burying his face in the pillow. Will's pillow smelled like his hair, all sweet shampoo and natural oils. “... Thanks,” Nico whispered.

Will nodded. Nico felt him pull the blankets up around his shoulders. “Go ahead and cry into the pillow if you need. I don’t care if you get it wet or snotty. Gods know I cry into it too.” Will leaned his forehead against Nico’s head; Nico got the impression that Will wanted to go for another kiss, but he refrained. “I’ll see you in a moment, darlin’. I’m gonna go tell Chiron about… him.”

Nico nodded listlessly. “... Thank you again,” he whispered.

“Of course. You’re welcome, again. I love you. I’ll be right back.” With that, he left, leaving Nico alone in the Apollo cabin, curled up among Will’s blankets, pouring his grief out into the pillow of the boy that he would have never been able to love had it not been for one sweet, beautiful, kind, perfect Jason Grace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read this if you want to cry like a little girl. https://archiveofourown.org/works/17974502. It may or may not have inspired this drabble.


	73. Non-shippy (mentions of Percabeth)-Promise to Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy made a promise to Meg that he'd come to her aid if she needed. 
> 
> Tonight, he hears a knock at his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied child abuse, but it's not obvious unless you know Meg's backstory.

_Tap, tap._

Percy started at the soft tap on the door of Cabin Three. It was the middle of the night, but he wasn’t asleep. He climbed out of bed, put on some pants and then, realizing it was probably just Annabeth, didn’t bother to put on a shirt before opening the door. 

Meg stood on the other side, her arms crossed across her chest, shivering against the cold fall air. She was wearing the same ratty dress that Percy’s mom had given her about a year ago. “... Meg?” he groaned. “What…?”

Meg made a small sound. Percy saw how hard she was shaking. Her glasses fogged up. 

“... Come on in.” Percy gestured her inside. “It’s not good for you to stay outside so long in this cold.”

Meg tiptoed inside. Percy closed the front door and Meg stood there, looking down. Percy put on a shirt. It was too awkward to stand there and bare his body to Meg. “... Meg? You okay?” 

“... I’m not supposed to be in here,” Meg whispered. 

“If you’re that caught up in the rules, why are you here?” Percy asked. 

“... I… Percy, I…” Percy saw tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. “... I’m…”

Percy awkwardly patted her shoulder. “... Hey, it’s… are you okay? What’s happening?”

“... I… um…”

“Did you have a nightmare?” Percy asked.

Meg nodded. 

Percy knelt in front of her, looking up into her face. “... Hey, it was… it was just a dream, okay? Dreams lie.”

Meg sniffled. “... But… but what about demigod… demigod dreams?”

“Did it feel like a demigod dream?”

“... I don’t know.” Meg’s voice broke. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Percy whispered. “Well… I think… I think it’s okay now, or okay-ish. The emperors are dead.”

Meg flinched at the mention of the emperors. “He’s dead,” she whispered. “... The Beast is dead.” Her voice broke, tears dripped down her cheeks. “... He’s really… dead.”

“... Yeah,” Percy whispered soothingly, putting a hand on Meg’s arm, gently as possible. “They’re all dead. And you helped kill them.”

Meg rocked back and forth for a moment before slumping to her knees, trembling. She shook her head. _He loved me. And then I killed him. I’m such a bad girl, oh, gods…_ “... Yeah,” she whispered. “... Yeah.”

“... Is there anything I can do? To help, I mean?”

Meg’s hands moved shakily over the hem of her dress. She bit her lip, a quiet whimper escaping her mouth. Tears tracked down her cheeks. She extended a trembling hand to Percy, reaching for his hand. 

Percy took her small hand in both of his own large ones, running a thumb over her tiny knuckles. “... I’m sorry. I really am. I’m sorry that you had to be traumatized so badly at such a young age. I’m sorry.”

Meg pulled Percy’s hand against her chest. She felt a sudden urge to cuddle. She wanted to be held, but she didn’t know how to ask Percy for comfort. “... I want Apollo,” she sniffled.

Percy was silent for a very long time. Finally, he murmured “... What would Apollo do for you if he were here?”

“... Hug me. Sing to me. He has such a… such a sweet voice,” Meg sniffled, trying to keep her voice even. 

Percy chuckled softly. “Well, you don’t want to hear me sing. But I can give you a hug. That’s not impossible.”

Meg bit her lip, nodding. “... Please,” she whispered. “Please.”

Percy pulled her close, sitting with his legs crossed and holding her in his lap. He cupped his hand over the back of her head, putting his other arm around her waist. Meg was so tiny he was afraid he would break her, it was nothing like Annabeth, who felt strong and sturdy in his arms, unbreakable. Meg felt tiny, willowy, like her spine was a dry twig that Percy could snap with two fingers, like her skin was an eggshell that Percy could crack simply by squeezing too hard. He felt her trembling. It only made her seem smaller, more fragile. “... Is this good?” Percy asked.

Meg nodded. She pressed her face into Percy’s bicep. “... Yeah,” she whispered.

Percy felt her tears dripping into his shirt. He rocked her back and forth, slowly. “... Can you tell me what the nightmare was about?”

Meg shook her head. “... I… I don’t want… I don’t want to talk about it.”

Percy nodded. He stroked her hair, enjoying how soft it was under his fingers. “... That’s understandable. I didn’t know… I didn’t know if… some people say that talking about it helps. That’s all. If you don’t want to talk I can’t make you.”

Meg nodded. “... Thanks.” 

Percy closed his eyes. He didn’t say any more for a long time. He listened to Meg’s quiet sniffles and gasps as they wound down, quietly evening out. Meg soaked up Percy’s touch like a sponge, slumping against him, cuddling close. She didn’t seem to want to move. Percy didn’t dare move her until she was ready. 

Finally, when Meg’s breathing was even and Percy couldn’t feel any more tears dripping into his shirt, he asked “Why did you come to me? Why not your sisters? Are your sisters bad to you?”

“No. Billie’s fine. Miranda doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. I just… we’re not that close.”

“... You’re closer with me than with them?” Percy asked, full of disbelief.

“I mean, you were… you’ve always been so nice to me, I… and you told me that… that if I needed anything, you’d be there, remember? Last week?”

“Yeah, I remember telling you that,” Percy replied.

“... I never… I don’t understand why you’re always so nice to me. But… thank you,” Meg rambled, squeezing Percy’s arm with both of her little hands. 

“... I saw you hiding behind Apollo and… and just… _trembling,_ and you looked… you looked so scared that… I mean, I felt bad for you. I wanted to help you somehow. I mean, call me a white knight with a hero complex if you want, but I did,” Percy chuckled.

“... So you felt pity for me?”

“I just wanted to help,” Percy replied. 

“... You have a good heart,” Meg murmured. “Like your mother.”

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. “... Thanks. You… you have a good heart too.”

Meg looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. She was smiling. “You’re awkward. It’s cute.”

Percy blushed. “... Thanks.”

Meg giggled. She lingered against his chest for a few more minutes before pulling away and standing up. “... Thank you, Percy. I mean it. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Do you… do you want to stay here tonight?” 

“... I shouldn’t,” Meg sighed. “I don’t want to get in trouble. Or, even worse, get _you_ in trouble.”

“... That’s very considerate of you,” Percy murmured. “Do you need an escort back to your cabin? To make sure the harpies don’t…”

“Nah. I have my ways.” Meg gave Percy another quick hug. “I’ll be all right. Thank you again.” She moved towards the door. “Goodnight, Percy. Sleep well.”

“... You too, Meg,” Percy whispered, watching her small figure slip out the door and into the blackness of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really just wanted to write something where Meg got cuddled. She's a smol bean and I want to give her all the hugs.  
> Also, I have a Twitter now! I'm @BigWeezl if you want to say hi. I don't have much there currently but that'll probably change.


	74. Non-shippy-Immortal Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This assumes Apollo does in fact get his immortality back in TON.   
> Apollo's just became divine once more when someone comes knocking for him. Turns out, more people than just Artemis missed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of alcohol withdrawal. Also, this isn't smutty. The title kind of makes it seem that way, but it's not. I'm not gonna put any actual smut in this doc. Also also, mentions of Zeus being a jerk.

Apollo was still enjoying the renewed tingles of divinity through his body when he heard the knock at his door. 

He assumed it was Artemis. After all, it would make sense if she wanted some private time to cuddle him. He knew, deep in his heart, that she’d missed him as much as he’d missed her. “I’ll be there in a minute!” he called. 

He stood up and opened the door, starting when he saw a disheveled Dionysus standing on the other side. He had changed out of the form he presented to campers and now looked like a scrawny, clean-shaven young man with deep purple shadows under his amethyst eyes. “Oh, hey, man.” 

Dionysus nodded. “... I… I need a… I’m gonna… My head… oh, fuck, Apollo, I’m gonna…” The pain was overwhelming, he got a sudden mental image of an enraged nymph banging on the inside of his skull, sending jolts of pain through the bone.  _ How fitting. _

“Hey. Hey. Calm down,” Apollo soothed, pulling him inside. “You know this is just the withdrawal speaking. You’re not going crazy. You’re not gonna go crazy.” 

“... ‘M gonna puke,” Dionysus muttered. “... ‘M gonna fuckin’ be sick.” It felt like someone was crushing his stomach with a rock, compressing it down to the size of a golf ball, all of the contents squishing out into the surrounding flesh.

“No you’re not. Take a breath, okay? I got you.” Apollo pulled him close, humming softly. 

Dionysus nodded, melting into Apollo’s soft embrace, feeling the ache in his head and stomach let up as Apollo held him. He didn’t know what to say, so he just shook his head and closed his eyes, clutching Apollo’s shirt in his hands. His head spun, his muscles felt like jelly.

“... Come on,” Apollo murmured. “Lie down. You’re shaking. You need to rest.”

Dionysus nodded. He let Apollo move him so he was curled up in the bed. He was shaking so badly he could hardly move. He reached dizzily for Apollo, who hung like the sun over him, his golden curls gleaming like fire. He felt the bed dip, felt Apollo drape an arm across him. He felt a soft press on his forehead, cloth, Apollo was holding him gently. Apollo was singing softly to him, his voice deep and warm and sweet. It felt like Apollo’s voice was carrying a physical weight off of his stomach, off of his head. He pressed himself a little closer into Apollo’s touch. 

After a few moments, Apollo stopped his gentle humming. “... I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you when you needed it.”

“... Weren’t you savin’ the world or something?” Dionysus managed.

“It wasn’t just me. I had a lot of help. Really, I was just trying to stay alive while my young master, Meg McCaffrey, saved the world,” Apollo chuckled ruefully. 

Dionysus gave a small smile as the vibrations from Apollo’s chuckles hummed through his body. “Well, of course. You didn’t even have any powers. She did. Of course she was more useful.”

Apollo snorted. “Yeah. It almost doesn’t even matter who or what you are, if you’ve got the godpowers, you’re useful. Anyway, it’s all okay now. I think things will go back to being… slightly less crazy. Like they were before.”

Dionysus nodded. “... Good. Then… maybe I… maybe it won’t hurt so much.”

Apollo nodded. “Yeah. No, fighting while in that level of withdrawal has to be horrific. I’m so sorry.”

“... You’re more compassionate after you’ve been mortal,” Dionysus mumbled. “I think it’s good for you. Keeps your head from getting as big as our dear father’s.”

“Don’t say that so loud. He’ll hear you,” Apollo chided gently. 

Dionysus nodded. “... Apologies.”

There was a pause. Apollo gently stroked Dionysus’s longish hair, carding fingers through messy curls, fingers warm over his scalp, like little sunbeams. The soft tugs of Apollo’s tender hand through his hair sliced through the pain, he felt it fade, wither. His body felt so heavy, he would have given anything to go to sleep and sleep for a very long time. Maybe he could sleep through the remainder of the punishment. Gods, wouldn’t that be Elysian. He felt his godly consciousness becoming hazy, fuzzy, shrinking down until all he was aware of was his dear, affectionate half-brother, gently cuddling him as he floated off to sleep. “... Thanks,” he murmured.

“... You feeling a little better?”

“... Tired,” Dionysus murmured. 

Apollo nodded. “Tired. You want to sleep?”

“... Yeah,” he nodded. “... Can I… sleep here?”

Apollo initially wanted to refuse, but then he remembered Will Solace and the way he had opened his cabin to him. He wondered if he had initially wanted to leave him in the lurch as well.  _ Gods know I deserved it.  _ “... Sure. Stay as long as you need.”

“... Thanks,” he murmured. “I… love ya, man.”

Apollo laughed. “Love you too, little brother. Glad I could help.” 

He held Dionysus gently for a few more moments, held him until he felt his breath become soft and slow. He pulled away to look at his face. His eyes were closed, his lips were parted slightly. He looked young, soft, fragile. Apollo had a flashback to Meg’s sleeping face. It was the same, gentle and vulnerable.  _ Oh, gods, I miss her. I need to visit soon and make sure she’s okay. I want… I want to feel her arms around my waist again. I want to feel her little body in my arms. Oh, gods, I just want to  _ hold _ her again. I didn’t know it was possible to miss someone this much. I should write a song about it. Or a poem. Or both. Why not both? _

_ After all, I have all the time in the world. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's canon that gods sleep because Ares blew the cover off of the fact that gods dream in TLT because he is basically bone from the neck up.
> 
> Also, I HC that Dionysus's withdrawal is constant. After all, he is the god of drink. It would make sense. If anyone knows enough about the original Greek myths to tell me that I'm wrong, please do. 
> 
> Also also, with all the Zeus-bashing I've done in this doc, I'll be surprised if I don't get smitten by lightning the next time I step out of my house.   
> It has been rainier than normal where I live lately.


	75. Non-shippy-Came Here To Think (and wound up in tears)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An idea that came to me very suddenly. Meg's going to visit Jason's grave when she finds Percy already there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason's dead. Meg and Percy have survivor's guilt.

Meg entered the cemetery, a single yellow rose in hand.  _ I owe him one. After all, he saved my life.  _ It was a too-warm day in March, just a degree or two above what was fully comfortable. Meg couldn’t help but wonder if Zeus had something to do with the heat. After all, who wouldn’t mourn on the anniversary of their son’s death?

It was only a moment before she arrived at Jason’s grave.  _ Wow. He really did get the best spot here.  _ The soft green leaves hanging above the plot made a dappled gold-and-green light pattern over the site. Meg had promised herself that she would never find any beauty in death, dead things or the dying, but this place held such a quiet beauty that Meg wanted to weep. She took a deep breath and blinked slowly.

Then her eyes fell on the figure kneeling by the grave. She’d recognize him anywhere, the posture, the power, the way he held himself, slightly stooped, as if someone had set a weight on his shoulders that he couldn’t put down. “... Percy?” she called.

It took a moment for Percy to realize that someone was speaking to him. He turned his head, laying eyes on her. Meg could see tear tracks on his cheeks. “... Meg.” 

Meg sat down next to him. She lay the little yellow rose she’d carried all this way at the base of Jason’s headstone and closed her eyes.  _ Jason, I… I know we were never that close, but… you gave your life so that Apollo and I could live. You must have been as kind and just as everybody said you were, to give your life for a total stranger like that. “Thank you” doesn’t even cut it. Jason, I owe you my life. I will never be able to repay my debt to you. _

_ Thank you so, so much. _

A crushing guilt filled her chest. Her eyes stung. “... I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

“Not your fault. He sacrificed himself willingly,” Percy murmured hoarsely. 

“... I know. But… I should have been stronger. I should have fought harder. Maybe… maybe then…” Meg took a breath, trying to keep in the tears. “... Maybe then he wouldn’t have had to… to… die.”

“And I should have come out from New York with you two and fought alongside you and saved you all. You were on a boat. I could have killed Caligula and saved all of you in ten minutes.” Percy’s voice broke. Meg looked up into his face. Tears dripped off his jaw. “And there would have been no loss of life.” He gently stroked the ground in front of Jason’s grave. 

“No, Percy. This wasn’t your quest. This was mine. I should have… should have found a way,” Meg sniffled. She wiped her nose on her hand, then wiped it on her dress. 

“... I could have saved him,” Percy whispered. Tears were pouring down his cheeks, running off his jaw. “... Oh, gods, Jason, I’m so, so sorry.”

“... He would forgive you,” Meg murmured, leaning on his shoulder. “... He would. He had a heart of gold. I know that much. He would have to, to sacrifice his life for someone he’d only met days before.”

“He did. He was the nicest guy. Just so… pure. I mean, the guy was so nice some of us wondered if he wasn’t gonna snap and break someone’s neck one day.” Percy wiped his face on his shirt. “But he never did. He was… oh, gods, he was the best. I remember… after Annabeth and I got out of Tartarus, he… he just came running at me and gave me this big ol’ hug and… I remember that… I just wanted to cry, but… you know. Guys don’t really cry in front of others, and the girls, Annabeth and Piper and Hazel, were there too, and… you know.”

“Right. You’re insecure,” Meg nodded. 

Percy nodded. “... Yeah. But… you know. It just… I mean, seeing him… seeing…  _ this… _ it just… it hurts. It’s so agonizing. Every time I come here, it’s just… I’m just…” He wiped his eyes on his shirt again. “... I’m so fucking distraught.”

Meg put an arm around his back. “... I get it,” she murmured. “... I’m hurt too.”

Percy pulled her into his arms, squeezing her. Meg could feel his chest jerking with his sobs. She clung to him, holding tight, her tiny arms held him around his broad shoulders as he pressed his cheek against her own tiny shoulder, tears staining the fabric of her mottled-green tee shirt dress. He was squeezing her so hard that her ribs ached from the pressure. “... Ow,” she squeaked.

“Sorry,” Percy gasped, sniffling. He let up on the hold somewhat.

“No, it’s okay. You’re just… you’re hurting. That’s all. It’s okay.” Meg wiped her own tears and defogged her glasses before reaching up and wiping tears off of Percy’s cheeks. 

Percy held her small hand against the curve of his cheek. Her hand was gentle, the skin was slightly leathery. He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, holding in that position long enough for Meg to become slightly uncomfortable, before finally releasing her hand. “... Thanks. I… I needed that.”

“... You did,” Meg murmured. “I could tell. You don’t cry much, at least not in front of me.”

“As I said, guys don’t cry much in front of others.” Percy dried his face. “... Anyway, thanks.” He pulled away from her, curling up on the ground beside the grave. “... Yeah, I’m sorry. I come here to think when I’m sad and it makes me sadder. I don’t know why I do it.”

“Yeah, that makes no sense,” Meg laughed. “You should find a thinking spot that doesn’t make you feel sad or guilty.”

Percy nodded, reaching out to touch the tombstone. “... Yeah. But this place… it is peaceful. And beautiful. They did… they did a really good job.”

“They did,” Meg agreed. “I understand why… look, if Jason wasn’t… buried here, I’d come here to think too.”

Percy nodded. He looked around. The soft gold and green light over his face made him look healthier than normal. Meg didn’t know how someone could look so tanned and strong and so pale and sickly at the same time, but Percy pulled it off. “... As I said, beautiful.”

“... And it feels like it shouldn’t be beautiful, because… because it’s a place of death, but… it is, in a way,” Meg mused. “I guess it’s… I guess it’s because it’s… everything is growing back over the grave, all the grass, all the flowers.” Meg picked a buttercup. 

“... Yeah,” Percy murmured. “... It’s being born again. I guess…” Percy sniffled, Meg saw his sea-green eyes well with tears again, the water glinting slightly. “I mean, it hurts to think of it this way, but… Jason’s  _ food _ now, in a way. For all these plants and flowers.” 

“... Buttercups,” Meg murmured. “Yellow buttercups. Yellow like his hair.”

Percy nodded. “... You’re profound.” 

“I don’t try to be,” Meg sighed. She touched the buttercup to her lips, a soft apology, there was so much she couldn’t say. She placed the buttercup at the base of the tombstone, traced his name gently with one finger, as if trying to memorize the shape of the letters, as if her touch could reach him in Elysium. 

Percy sat up. He leaned in and took the tombstone in a hug. His lip trembled and his tears fell, again, landing on the rock, making dark little marks on the stone. The tombstone was rough against his cheek, his arms, but he couldn’t let go. A sudden softness hit his chest, he heard a voice whispering  _ It’s okay, Percy, it’s okay. I’m not mad, tell Meg I’m not mad  _ and in that moment, he could almost pretend that the cold rock was the warm shoulder of his old friend. 

It was a moment before he pulled away.  _ … It was only a vision. Your grief is so strong it spawned a vision. Jason’s not here. He’s in Elysium. He’s in Elysium with Dakota and Silena and Beckendorf and Michael Yew and Castor and Lee Fletcher and so many others.  _

Meg put a hand on his shoulder. He flinched slightly at the soft touch before relaxing. “... You need another hug?” 

“... No,” Percy whispered. “... And… you were right. Jason’s not mad. He doesn’t blame any of us for his death. He… he loves us.”

Meg nodded. “That’s the spirit,” she murmured. 

Percy turned back to Jason’s grave. “... I’m sorry, Jase. I can’t stay here anymore. I… I’m not gonna be able… be able to stop crying unless I leave you. And… you would want us to be happy, right? You wouldn’t want to be cried for.” 

Meg nodded. “Yeah, that’s smart. Let’s go… let’s go back into the city and get some pizza or something.”

“Bye, Jase,” Percy whispered. “I hope there’s free pizza for you in Elysium.”

And with that, Percy and Meg stood up and left, leaving Jason to rest eternally in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if all of this stuff with Jason's death is getting stale. It's just that, two years after the release of TBM, I've finally come to terms enough with it to recognize fully that it happened.


	76. Some Percabeth- Percy's Odd Attachments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg has a question for Annabeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of child abuse.

“Have you noticed that Percy has, like, an unnatural attachment to women?” Meg asked. She and Annabeth were curled up in her and Percy’s bed. Annabeth was tapping on her computer. Meg was internally trying to divide Annabeth’s tippy taps into eighth-note rhythms, but failed consistently. Internally, she lamented her lack of inherent rhythm. After all, she played piano. She was supposed to have rhythm. 

Annabeth frowned, looking up and over at her. “... I don’t know. I mean, he’s got some good friends who are men. It’s not, like,  _ disproportionate.” _

“No, I mean, the way he talks about you… I’d call him a simp, but he talks the same way about his mother. It’s just…” Meg waved her hands, looking for words. “It’s almost  _ over _ complimentary. I mean, I’ve never heard him say anything bad about you, or his mother, or Hazel, or me.”

“Well, I’ve never heard him say anything bad about Grover, and Grover’s his best friend in the world,” Annabeth replied. “Or Frank.”

“No one has anything bad to say about Frank. Frank’s a genuinely awesome human being. But wait, Grover Underwood?”

“Yeah. Him. You know him?”

“Yeah, yeah! Apollo and I quested with him!” Meg’s face broke into a wide smile. 

“Lucky. He’s a good questmate.”

Meg nodded. “Yeah. He’s pretty solid. But that’s beside the point. I mean, I wouldn’t care if he was only overcomplimentary, but… like… he gets so damn triggered whenever…” Meg huffed. “Well… I don’t know, but like… he gets like…  _ too  _ upset whenever he sees a girl getting beat up, you know? I mean, most people would be somewhat upset, but not to the point of homicidal rage, which is where he gets, you know?”

Annabeth pointed at her. “Yes. I  _ have  _ noticed that. I don’t know exactly why, but I do have some ideas. I’ve heard stories of… apparently… you know his stepdad?”

“Never met the guy. But yeah, I’ve heard of him. Why?”

“Well, he’s… pretty new in Percy’s life, all things considered. Apparently he had a stepdad before his current one. I don’t know much, but it wasn’t… it apparently wasn’t a good situation. I don’t know. I wouldn’t think much of it except for… for… he’s got these… these scars across his thighs that… I’ve done some research. And to me they look like… whipping marks?”

Meg cringed. “Like from a belt or something?”

“Belt, whip, lash of some kind, I don’t know. But those scars look like that. And his mother has this really big one across her… behind her ear that… I asked her about it and she pretended it didn’t exist until I pointed to it. And… the one time I saw her in shorts, she had identical scars. And she pretended she didn’t know what those were either. So… yeah, I have some concerns,” Annabeth summed. 

“Damn.” Meg wolf whistled. “I… I thought… I thought it was just… I thought Mrs. Jackson just… I thought she just beat the respect-women thing through his head so he wouldn’t be a deadbeat like his dad and he just took it to heart. I never… I never thought it would be anything serious. I’m never gonna make fun of him for it again.”

Annabeth nodded. “Yeah. There’s… Percy’s been through some shit.”

Meg nodded speechlessly. 

Just then, the door opened. Percy walked in, looking exhausted and cranky until he saw the girls, at which his face lit up in a grin. “Hey!”

“Hey, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth greeted, extending her arms and putting her laptop aside. 

Percy flopped next to her, between her and Meg, cuddling close, holding her. They kissed and Meg looked away, awkwardly. “... Missed you,” Percy murmured into her mouth.

They separated. Annabeth smiled and rested her head on his chest. “Missed you too.”

“Were you two talking about me before I came in?” Percy asked suddenly.

“No,” Annabeth lied. “Of course not.”

Meg made a mental note to tell Annabeth that she almost respected her ability to lie. She watched as Percy closed his eyes, a soft smile on his face, and tried to picture someone wanting to willingly injure him. She couldn’t manage it. She leaned in and wrapped her arms around him, joining the hug, trying to express what she never could in words. 

Trying to process what Annabeth had just revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone messaged me saying "Why do you write about Meg so much? She's boring." In light of this, I will be writing about her twice as much. If that's even possible.


	77. Percabeth- An Old Enemy Returns REWRITTEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spiders are back again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arachnophobia and vomiting.  
> Someone said this was their favorite drabble, so I took out the stuff that made that one person scream at me and I'm reposting it. I'm so sorry.

Percy was mostly asleep when he heard the screams.

At first, he thought it was just another nightmare. After all, he has them a lot. It wasn’t his first time hearing screams as he drifted off. Also, Estelle screamed sometimes. Screams were almost normal in the Jackson household, or at least in Percy’s head. 

But these were different somehow. Percy couldn’t put his finger on it. He blinked, slowly, as if the blackness of his familiar bedroom would provide answers somehow. He patted the bed next to him, expecting to find Annabeth, but found the bed empty. _Oh. Right. We had a fight. She yelled until her face was purple. That’s why she didn’t want to sleep in my bed._

Then his mind added two and two. _Shit. Those are Annabeth’s screams. Oh, fuck._ He stood up and left the bedroom, laying eyes on Annabeth’s familiar body on the couch. He could see her contorting, hitting at herself, screaming and screaming. He moved a little closer. Small black things crawled over her body, chewed at her skin. 

She was covered in spiders.

Percy’s mind went blank. Water gunned out of his fingers, beyond his control, explosive as a power washer. Her body contorted, sobbing and shuddering as the spiders were blasted off of her. Percy gassed the entire sofa in bug spray as soon as he was content they were off of her. 

“... Pe-r-cy…” Her voice came out like a moan. 

He knelt down next to her and held her hand. “Yeah. I’m here.”

“... You could see them?” she blurted, hiccuping, sobbing. “Pe-r-cy, they… they only come out when I’m alone. So no one would… would believe me.”

“Well, I saw them,” Percy soothed. He watched as water ran out of her hair, over the couch. “So that’s clearly not true.”

“... I’m gonna… I’m gonna puke,” she gasped, pushing herself up onto her elbow, holding her stomach. “I’m actually gonna puke.”

Percy nodded. “Come on,” he murmured, helping her up. She coughed harshly and gagged, buckling over. _Crap,_ Percy thought. _She isn’t gonna… okay._ He half-carried her over to the kitchen sink and she gagged harder, drooling a milky white fluid over her chin. Percy watched it dribble into the sink, run down the drain. He held her hair back gently and looked away. It was too heartbreaking to watch her throw up like that, trembling and soaked. 

Finally, she stood up and turned to Percy. “... I’m so-o so-r-ry,” she gasped. “I’m so-o so-r-ry. Fo-or ev-e-ry-thi-ng. Fo-or ye-elling a-at yo-ou ea-earl-ier. I-I’m so-o so-r-ry.”

Percy rubbed her back, water running into his shirt. “... It’s okay. I’m not mad. I was only upset because you were acting like you hated me earlier.”

“I-I’m so-o so-o-r-ry,” she quavered, gasping. “I-I wa-as so-o sca-ar-ed.”

“Take a deep breath. Calm down. It’s okay now. We have all night,” Percy soothed, holding her gently. “You can talk to me all night if you need.” 

Annabeth heaved a breath, holding it. She buried her face in Percy’s shoulder, nuzzling for comfort. Percy put his hand on the back of her head, holding her as she slowly calmed down enough to speak. “... I’m sorry,” she whispered, finally. “I’m sorry. When you… earlier, when I saw you fighting that kid, I was so scared that… that they were gonna kick you out, that they weren’t gonna graduate you, or that you were gonna go to juvie, and I got mad and… and I screamed at you, Percy. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Percy sighed. “I’m not mad, Wise Girl. And Paul said that they can’t punish me if I’m not on school property, and we were in the parking lot of the church across the street, so…” Percy heaved a sigh. “I think it’ll be okay.”

“I hope so,” she squeaked, huddling tight to his chest. “Oh, gods, I hope so.”

Percy heard footsteps behind him. He turned. “Mom?”

“Percy? Is everything okay? I heard so much screaming.” Sally looked tiny in her raggy old nightgown. 

“Annabeth had a little… situation. It’s taken care of now,” Percy replied. “But she still doesn’t feel so well. Also, I might have destroyed the couch. I’m so sorry. I’ll find a way to pay for it later.”

Sally studied the couch. “Nah. It’s not that ruined. We can dry that out and clean it up. It’ll be fine. I mean, what the hell happened?”

“... The… the spi-iders came back,” Annabeth quavered.

Sally stared at her for a very long time. “... Do they attack often?”

“... No-o. Only when I’m alone.”

Sally patted Annabeth’s back. “Well, dear, I’m sure Percy has it all under control.”

“Mom, it’s real. She’s not crazy,” Percy insisted. “I saw them with my own eyes. She isn’t lying to you.”

Annabeth let out a quavering wail, squeezing Percy tightly. Percy held her protectively. 

Sally looked at them like she didn’t know what to think. “... I think she should clean herself up and sleep in your bed again, Percy. I know you two are fighting, but I think it’s time to make up.”

“I know,” Percy murmured. “We’ve already made amends. She already apologized for screaming at me.”

Sally nodded. “Good.”

“... Yeah… good,” Annabeth sniffled.

“... Do you have any bites?” Sally asked, rubbing a hand idly over Annabeth’s back, her shoulders. 

Annabeth pulled away and pointed out a few bites on her legs, her arms. Sally touched them, cooing softly. “Okay, sweetie. We have ointment in the bathroom. After you shower up you can put some on. That should help.”

Annabeth nodded, sniffling. She leaned back against Percy and Percy took her back into his arms, holding tight as Annabeth buried her face in his broad shoulder. She breathed in his smell, sweet like the sea, soothing in a way she couldn’t describe. If they were alone, no Sally, no nothing, she would have been perfectly content to stay there forever, let her flesh grow into his, mix and meld and bleed together to form one being, an eight-limbed being like before the gods split humanity. 

He kissed her forehead. “C’mon, Wise Girl. Let’s go get you clean and warm, okay?”

His voice was soft and tender. Annabeth would have done whatever he asked. She nodded. 

“Okay. I’m gonna go get her washed up, okay, Mom?”

“Yes, of course,” Sally replied. “And Annabeth?”

Annabeth looked at her, nodding, swaying.

Sally came close to her and put a kiss on her cheek. “It’s gonna be okay, alright, baby?”

Annabeth fought back a sob. She nodded and closed her eyes, turning away and letting Percy lead her into the bathroom, closing the door behind them. Percy released her, turning to the door. “Don’t leave,” she whispered. “Please. Don’t go.”

Percy looked at her. It was a long look. “... Okay, Wise Girl. I won’t go. Do you want me to turn around so you can change?”

Annabeth nodded. Percy closed his eyes and she stripped down, climbing into the shower, drawing the curtains, sitting down in the tub and letting the water run over her body. It was warm, but she couldn’t stop shivering. “Percy?” she whimpered.

“I’m here,” he responded, sitting down on the other side of the tub, leaning his head on it and closing his eyes. 

Percy felt a hand slip around his own. He held her hand, rubbing her knuckles gently. “... How are you holding up?”

A soft sob broke out of Annabeth’s throat. “... I… I’m so scared, Seaweed Brain. My stomach… my stomach hurts so bad.”

“... I’ll protect you from the spiders,” Percy murmured. “Even if you don’t need it. I promise, I’m always gonna protect you.”

Annabeth didn’t respond. Percy heard her crying softly. 

“... Did I say something stupid?”

“... No,” Annabeth sniffled. “... No, Percy, you’re wonderful.”

Percy got a lump in his throat. “... Thanks.” He put a kiss on her knuckles, his heart breaking as he saw a little bite on the skin. He moved his lips to kiss the bite. 

Annabeth felt the contact through her whole body. She felt a sudden urge to ask him to get in the shower with her, hold her while she washed herself, keep the pain away, but she didn’t want him to think she was too needy, so she bit her lip and kept her mouth shut. She gave his warm callused hand one last squeeze and stood up, sniffling. “... I’m gonna wash myself now.”

“You do that,” Percy agreed. “Tell me if there’s anything I can do.”

Annabeth sighed, biting back another bout of tears. “... No. It’s okay.”

“Okay, Wise Girl,” Percy whispered. 

Annabeth washed herself silently, letting the water wash the tears from her cheeks. Fear still clenched at her chest, a cold fist around her heart. She watched the water streaming over her body, thinking of Percy, the way his fingers easily stroked over her when they would have their alone time, kissing and cuddling like tomorrow wouldn’t come. Percy always tasted of salt; she couldn’t taste salt without thinking of him. 

Thinking of him made her feel better.

“... Close your eyes. I’m getting out,” Annabeth said, drawing back the curtain. She wrapped her hair and body in towels, drying off. “... Will you get me some clean pajamas, please?”

Percy nodded and left. Annabeth dug through the cabinet and pulled out the bug bite cream, smoothing it over the bites, tears dripping down her cheeks still. She was so tired, the tears just kept coming out on their own volition. She couldn’t control them. _You fucking pussy. What are you gonna do, cry to your boyfriend? You might as well be pissing on yourself if you can’t control your tears._

She dried her eyes as Percy reentered the room. He scanned her up and down. _Gods, she looks so tiny. Tiny and tired. Poor girl._ “... Here. I have some clothes for you.”

Annabeth took the clothes. It was one of Percy’s old undershirts and a pair of her sleep shorts. “... Thanks,” she whispered, trying not to cry.

“I brought you one of my sweatshirts if you need that too,” he murmured.

Annabeth nodded. “Close your eyes. I’m gonna get dressed.”

Percy nodded and closed his eyes. Annabeth dropped the towel and put her shorts on. She untied her hair towel and brushed out her hair before putting on the shirt. Percy stood there silently, his eyes closed. Annabeth’s heart warmed when she saw it. _So sweet. I love him so much._ “... I’m done, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy opened his eyes. “... You look cute in my shirts, you know that?”

Annabeth blushed. She moved close to Percy, huddling into his arms again. Percy held her. “... Thanks.”

Percy nodded. “... You want to go to bed?”

Annabeth looked up into his eyes. “... Only if it’s with you.”

Percy blushed. Annabeth’s gaze was so heartfelt, so intense, that Percy’s heart felt like it was on unstable ground. “... Alright. Come to bed with me, then.”

Annabeth leaned into Percy as they walked, an invitation for Percy to put his arm around her waist. Percy complied, resting his arm about her waist, on her hips. She felt his strength, having a sudden realization that _he could break me, kill me, I could die by his hand, but he wouldn’t_ do _that, he loves me more than anything, more than the world. Oh, gods, gods, it hurts, but it’s such a good hurt._

Percy lay her down in the bed. She pressed her face into the pillow, breathing in the smell of his hair, the sweetness of sea air mixed with soap and hair oils. She held her breath, wanting to hold the smell inside her, wanting to have a little part of him in her chest for as long as she could. She felt the bed dip under her, Percy lay down beside her and put an arm around her waist, cuddling close. “... Sleep well, Wise Girl, okay?”

“... I love you, Seaweed Brain. I love you so much. I do.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could think about it.

Annabeth felt Percy squeeze her a little tighter. “... I love you too.”

Annabeth pressed her face into Percy’s chest, enjoying the feeling of his skin against her cheek. She could hear the breath in his chest, his beating heart, warm and alive and _real. Seaweed Brain, love…_

Annabeth listened to his heart beat, feeling their breath sync into a slow, sleepy rhythm, his chest pressed against her cheek as hers pressed against his stomach. The urge to cry evaporated slowly, every breath that flowed out of her took away some of the pain. It was like Percy’s presence washed the ache from her innards, made everything better. “... Thank you,” she whispered, drifting off.

“... You’re welcome. I love you. Sleep well,” Percy replied, pressing one last kiss to her forehead before he, too, fell asleep.


	78. Chrisse- Scared Me So Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick never spelled out the moment where Chris's sanity was restored. So I'm doing it in his stead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a twofer. Warnings for insanity mentions and implied abuse/torture.

“... And you think you can make him better?” Clarisse asked, holding an unconscious Chris in her arms. She hadn’t even bothered to change out of her armor after the battle of the Labyrinth. Her clothes hung in tatters around her. She figured she’d need to change soon. 

Dionysus nodded. “Yes. I can restore his sanity, his self-sufficiency, but he won’t be the same. And perhaps that is right. The memories will be his punishment.”

Clarisse nodded. Her stomach turned. “... Okay. Will he… will he be okay?”

“He will live,” Dionysus replied. “Now, if you want this done, it would behoove you to leave and let me work in peace.”

Clarisse tucked Chris into his sleeping bag and left, her knees trembling. She leaned against the wall outside the basement stairs, feeling a wobbly something in her ribcage. She put a hand over the offending spot in her chest, holding in whatever agonies would loose themselves if she allowed herself to feel, as if trying to push them down would make them disappear. 

She felt a soft hand on her shoulder. “Clarisse?”

Clarisse opened her eyes. She’d barely registered closing them. “... Silena.”

“How’d the talk with Dionysus go?” Silena asked, letting her hand run over Clarisse’s bicep in a soothing motion. 

“... Well. He’s… he says he can fix him. He’s trying to do it now.” Clarisse’s voice broke, she couldn’t control it. 

“... You’re scared, aren’t you?” Silena murmured tenderly. “You’re scared it won’t work. You’re scared that… that he won’t like you anymore when he wakes up.”

Clarisse managed a nod. She didn’t know what to say.

Silena leaned in, wrapping her in a hug. Clarisse drooped her head, nesting into Silena’s warm shoulder, stifling tears. She was so tired. Every fiber of her being wanted to curl up in Silena’s arms and go to sleep. There was a throbbing in her chest that eased only slightly at Silena’s touch, her soft hands running over her shoulders. She didn’t know how to bury it down without breaking into sobs.

“... It’s gonna be okay,” Silena whispered, gently patting Clarisse’s back. “Whatever happens, I’m here for you. It’s okay.”

Clarisse nodded. She pulled away from Silena’s soft embrace and wiped the forming moisture out of her eyes. “... Thank you so much, Sil, I… it means so much to me.” 

Silena leaned in and put a kiss on her cheek. “You’re welcome, Risse.”

Clarisse’s cheeks flamed red. “What the fuck did you just… oookay. I think I have to… uh.”

“I kiss my friends. If you don’t like it, we can talk.”

“... Uh. No, it’s okay. As long as it doesn’t mean anything beyond normal friendship,” Clarisse stammered.

Silena smiled sweetly. “No, of course it doesn’t. That kiss was to give you strength.”

Clarisse bought it. “... Thank you,” she murmured.

Just then, Dionysus came up the stairs. “It is done,” he announced. “He is cured. He will wake shortly.”

Clarisse’s stomach flopped. She swallowed. Her stomach filled with a trembly queasiness, she wanted to vomit. She couldn’t speak. 

“Thank you,” Silena replied, smiling. 

Dionysus nodded. “You’re welcome. Now, I must check on my son.” He sighed heavily, moving down the hallway. “My one remaining son.”

Clarisse turned to Silena, giving her a silent nod of thanks. Silena put an arm around her hips. “You wanna go…?”

“Alone,” Clarisse whispered. “I want to be… alone. Just in case… I don’t want to…”

Silena nodded, releasing her. “Tell me if you need anything, okay?”

Clarisse nodded silently. She hugged her stomach as she stumbled down the stairs, suddenly feeling very much like an old woman, fragile and crotchety. She wanted to curl up in the fetal position and fade into a gray obscurity, warm and emotionless. She saw Chris curled up in his sleeping bag. He looked peaceful. She knelt down heavily by the sleeping bag, leaning in, resting her head on his shoulder. Her armor cut into her flesh as she curled up, but she didn’t care. She needed to feel Chris there. Even if it hadn’t worked, even if he wasn’t sane, she needed him. “... I’m sorry,” she whispered, sitting up just enough to stroke his fuzzy hair. “... I’m so sorry. Please, wake up. Please, be okay.” She felt her tears fall into his sleeping bag, heard the soft  _ pip-pip-pip _ as they fell. “I need you here.”

Clarisse felt him turn over. She jumped back, wiping her eyes, looking down. His eyes opened, slowly, focused on her. “... Clarisse?”

Clarisse whimpered. She grabbed him, pulling his chest to hers, burying her face in his shoulder. She squeezed him as tightly as she could, needing him there. “Chris. Oh, gods. Fucking… oh, fuck, Chris. I’m gonna kill you.” She rocked back and forth. “Then I’m gonna bring you back to life and kill you again. Oh, gods, you scared me so bad.”

“... Ribs,” Chris squeaked. “Hurts. Ouch.”

“Suck it up,” Clarisse sniffled. “Suck it the fuck up.”

Clarisse felt Chris wrap his arms around her. He shifted, sitting up fully. She let him move, falling against him, clinging to him. Chris rubbed his hand over her back. “... I’m sorry.”

“... What do you remember?” Clarisse whispered. 

“Last thing I remember clearly is Lu- uh, Kronos ordering me to investigate the Labyrinth solo. After that it’s… fuzzy. I don’t remember much. Something about a roomful of skulls.”

Clarisse paused. There was a question weighing in her mind, she didn’t know if she wanted to hear the answer, but she had to ask. “... And who the fuck is Mary?” 

Chris flinched. “... Oh, gods. She was… a friend. She snuck out to go with me when I was exploring the Labyrinth. Kronos caught her and… I never saw her again. I don’t know what happened to her. I think… I don’t think…”

“You think she’s dead?” Clarisse murmured, rubbing his back gently. 

“Yeah. I… I do. I mean… Clarisse, you don’t understand the penalties for disobeying him. He… I’m surprised… if I…” His voice choked in his throat, trembling. 

“... He would have killed you?” 

“Yes,” Chris whispered. “He would have killed me. I honestly don’t know how I’m still alive.”

“You’re alive because I found you wandering around through downtown Phoenix and dragged your ass back to Camp Half-Blood, that’s why.” Clarisse gave a watery snort. “You’re in the basement of the Big House. Chiron and I put you here because we didn’t want to freak out the others with how bad of a state you were in.”

“... Phoenix…” Chris sniffled. “... I was trying to come home. I was trying to find you.”

Clarisse held him tighter. Her lip trembled, she felt the tears coming again. She buried her face in his shoulder once more, letting tears fall into the fabric of his sweater, his warmth flowing into her cheek. She could feel his ribs as she clung to him.

“... But tell me, Kronos didn’t… did he…” Chris could barely speak.

“He attacked us, yeah. The battle just finished a few hours ago. We beat him back,” Clarisse sniffled. “He retreated, I mean.”

“Hiding out,” Chris murmured, sniffling. “No doubt gathering his strength for another attack. Oh, gods, Clarisse, I’m so sorry, I…I never should have defected. I’m so sorry.”

Clarisse met his eyes. His eyes were wide and soft as a puppy. Clarisse could see all the pain and fear held there, all the anguish, all the sadness. It melted whatever coldness she still had towards him. “... It’s okay,” she murmured. “It’ll be okay. I’m not mad. I’ll… your brothers know you’re here, I’ll explain the situation.”

“... I’m so sorry,” Chris murmured, leaning his forehead against hers. “... I’m so sorry.”

Clarisse sighed, feeling the warmth of his breath against her face. “... I can’t stay mad at you, Chris. You’re forgiven. In my eyes, you’re forgiven.”

“Do you think…”

“Do I think what?”

“Do you think the others will… hate me?”

“Well, I think word will get out about Dionysus healing you pretty quick. And I think people will figure that you owe him enough not to run out and defect again,” Clarisse reassured. She stroked her fingers over his neck, gently as possible. “I think you’ll be forgiven.”

Chris nodded. He lay his head in the crux of her shoulder, feeling Clarisse stroke her fingers across his shoulders, over his neck, through his hair. He’d forgotten how much he’d enjoyed being with her. “... I hope I wasn’t too much trouble to take care of.”

“You absolutely were,” Clarisse responded. “I had to bathe you to make sure you wouldn’t drown. I had to handfeed you because you couldn’t recognize food as food. I had to make sure you got to the bathroom okay every few hours because you couldn’t think clearly enough to tell what was and what wasn’t a toilet unless I showed it to you. And you… you called me Mary.” Her voice broke. She held him a little tighter, burying her face in his shoulder. “You didn’t know who I was.” 

“... Oh, gods. I really  _ had  _ gone crazy. Mary was…” Chris laughed, a watery giggle. “Mary was half black.”

“Son of a bitch,” Clarisse snorted. “What level of hallucinations… see, this is why I think the Fates hate us. Because no loving Fates would allow a basically good man to descend into that level of madness.”

“Maybe the Fates are with the gods. Maybe that’s why,” Chris reasoned.

“That would be a good thing,” Clarisse reasoned. “Let’s hope for that.” She held him tightly. “... Oh, gods. I’m so happy you’re back.”

“... I’m so happy you’re not mad,” Chris laughed. “When I first heard you coming down the stairs I thought you were gonna stab me.”

“... I don’t think I could ever bring myself to hurt you,” Clarisse managed. “As sappy and dumb as it sounds, I don’t think I could ever bring you to harm. I… Chris, I… I love you.” 

Chris squeezed her, putting his hand on the back of her head. “... I love you too. I’m so sorry.” 

Clarisse’s throat tightened. She couldn’t speak. She pressed her face into Chris’s shoulder and wept, hiccuping and gasping softly. She clung to him as tightly as she could, unable to let go. There wasn’t enough fluid in her body for her to cry enough to soothe her emotions. There was so much  _ need,  _ raw, powerful  _ need,  _ coursing through her, her chest felt like it was full of mud and she needed Chris to come in and wash it all away. She didn’t care about circumstances anymore. She couldn’t have cared less about Kronos. 

All she cared about was the warm body she held in her arms. 

“Hey, don’t cry,” Chris whispered. “I’m okay now.” He pulled her face out of his shoulder, wiping her tears with a tender hand. 

Clarisse leaned into the touch. “... I’m so fucking glad.” She took a deep breath, wiping her eyes, regaining control. “... I’m so fucking glad you’re okay.”

“... I’m okay,” Chris murmured. “... I’m okay.”

There was a long pause. They rocked back and forth, gently, softly. Finally, Clarisse pulled away. “... Thanks.”

“... No problem,” Chris replied. “... Hey, what was with the ‘I love you’ earlier? Did you mean it, like…”

_ It means “I fucking love you and I’m so happy you’re okay and I want to squeeze you and kiss you and be your fucking girlfriend and you owe it to me after kissing me and then immediately ditching me for the enemy.”  _ “No fucking idea. It just felt right. Don’t take it too seriously.” 

Chris studied her face. “... Okay. I’ll put it out of my mind, then.”

_ No, tell me I’m lying, force the truth out of my mouth, I’m a lying whore, please…  _ “Good. You do that.”

Chris yawned. “... Hey, I’m kinda hungry.”

“Shit. I never gave you any breakfast. You’re hungry because you haven’t eaten in… what, almost twenty-four hours?” Clarisse managed a watery giggle. “See, this is why I should never be in a caretaker role. I’m absolute shite at it.”

Chris gave her another quick, gentle hug. “... Well, you kept me alive and restored my sanity. You can’t be that bad.”

Clarisse hoped that the room was too dark for Chris to see her blush. “... Don’t give me false compliments. Come on, let’s get something to eat.” She stood up, extending a hand to Chris.

Chris took it, letting her help him up, leaning on her. “I’m not giving you any false compliments. I really mean it.”

“... Shut up,” Clarisse murmured weakly.  _ Stop making me want to kiss you, you absolute weasel of a boy.  _ “Let’s just go get you your sandwich.”

Chris laughed. In the dim light, Clarisse could see him smiling widely. “Okay, Clarisse. Let’s go do that.”

  
  
  


About an hour later, Clarisse was leading Chris towards the Hermes cabin. Clarisse had apparently explained what was happening while Chris was eating, but Chris was still nervous. After all, Luke had been their brother too, and look what he’d done. There would be sore feelings, Chris knew that much. 

Clarisse opened the door. Chris looked inside. The cabin was much emptier than Chris remembered it. It made his heart twist. He felt the stares of his siblings on him, recognizing Travis, Connor, and the two kids, Lou Ellen and Cecil, who’d been newbies when he’d defected last year--were they still unclaimed? He remembered that they’d had a friend. That friend, a curly headed blond boy, was now conspicuously absent. “... Uh. Hey.”

Travis’s eyes lit up. “Chris!” He crossed the cabin and grabbed him in a hug. “Shit, man…” He shook his head.

Chris hugged back, reflexively melting against him. He remembered Luke’s--no,  _ Kronos’s--  _ abuse and felt tears prick at his eyes once more.  _ This  _ was what a brother was supposed to do for you. Chris took a deep breath, blinking back the tears. “... I’m sorry,” Chris managed.

“... We’re just glad you’re back on our side, now, man,” Travis chuckled. “And I’m sure we all are okay with taking you back, right, guys?” He let go of Chris and swept his eyes over the small crowd in the cabin. 

There were murmurs of agreement. Connor looked at him with a perfectly neutral expression, saying nothing. It made Chris’s heart twist.  _ He’s never gonna forgive me. _

“See? No one’s really that mad. And I know Connor’s being standoffish and I’m sorry. He’ll come around eventually,” Travis snorted. 

“... I hope so,” Chris murmured. He looked back. Clarisse was gone, the door closed. He was alone with his siblings. “... Yeah, I hope so.”

“It’ll be fine, man,” Travis reassured. He led Chris over to his old bunk. “Your bunk’s even still free if you want it.”

“... How did that happen?” 

“Well, half of everyone is dead or defected. We haven’t had any newbies at all this summer. The last newbie came about four or five months back,” Travis recalled. 

Chris was silent. “... Oh, gods, I’m sorry.”

“Luke’s fault, not yours,” Travis reported, patting Chris’s back. 

Chris managed a nod. “I still feel guilty.”

“Unless that guilt is the only damn thing stopping you from defecting again, let go of it. Head counselor’s orders,” Travis demanded. 

Chris’s eyes welled. He nodded again. 

Travis gave him another quick hug. “Hey, man, it’ll be all right,” he murmured, his voice soft. “You made the right choice in coming back. It’ll be okay. We’re together. We’ve got each other. It’ll work out.”

Chris buried his face in Travis’s sturdy shoulder, melting against him, nuzzling for comfort. “... Thanks.”

“Always welcome,” Travis soothed. 

Chris let himself linger there, safe in his brother’s warmth. Travis didn’t try to move him. He didn’t want to move, his body felt so heavy, if Travis gave him permission to sleep in his arms it would be an opportunity immediately taken. He would have been okay to go to sleep and sleep for a month. “... No, seriously, thanks, man,” Chris managed. “... I needed that.”

Travis patted his back. “Nah, man, it’s cool. Stay as long as you need. 

“Mi casa is tu casa, bro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Travis and Chris are about the same age. Connor and Cecil are about the same age. Travis still acts like everyone's big brother.


	79. Some Chrisse- "It Was Fine Until Kronos Took Over. Then It Wasn't Fine."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A newly sane Chris may hold valuable information about the whereabouts of Kronos's army. However, can Chris even make it through an explanation of where Kronos's forces may be without crying, screaming, or throwing up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of torture.

“Okay, Chris.” Travis’s voice was gentle. He patted Chris’s shoulder over the Ping-Pong table. The Stolls had dragged Chris before a council of the head counselors in an attempt to get information about the whereabouts of Kronos’s forces. “Now you need to tell us  _ everything.  _ Start to finish. We need to know where Kronos is and what he’s doing, okay?”

Chris shifted, trying to fight back the unpleasant memories welling in the forefront of his mind. He glanced around at the faces of the head counselors before meeting Clarisse’s eyes. She gave him a silent nod of support. “... Uh. Okay,” he stammered. “I don’t know if… my knowledge isn’t current, but…”

“Please, just tell us everything you know,” Annabeth started, her lips pressed into a thin line. 

Chris noted her frustration, shifting again. “... Last thing I remember, Kronos was exploring the Labyrinth in hopes of finding a reliable route to camp. But apparently he already attacked here, and it didn’t work, so I’m guessing he’s going to try something else. Kronos isn’t the type to try something that failed a second time, so I don’t know if he’s gonna go for camp again.”

“Where do you think he’ll attack next and when?” Annabeth asked. 

“... Uh. I don’t know. He was putting all his energy into the Labyrinth. I think it’ll be a little while before we get another big attack. But I don’t think that means we’re off the hook. I think… I think what he’ll do is go for a number of smaller attacks on quest groups and individual campers while he bides for time and energy. In my opinion, he’s gonna build his strength up and then go for a huge attack, probably on Olympus. When he does go for Olympus, he’s gonna want to get the attack over with as fast as possible.”

“That makes sense,” Annabeth mused. “Kick our asses as fast as he can, then go for the gods. Gods know the gods aren’t able to defend themselves without us. Anyway, any advice?”

Chris sighed. “Um… just… I’d advise everyone to become a year-rounder for now. Just so there’s fewer lone demigods hanging around to attack.” He saw Percy Jackson’s face fall when he said that. “... Or at bare minimum, stay in the area. Now’s not the time to leave the country. We need everyone local so we’re harder to attack.”

Annabeth sighed. “... Oookay. Um. Well… from what it sounds like, he’s going for Olympus and he wants to knock us out first. Great. Anyway, where are their bases? Are they stationed anywhere besides the Labyrinth?”

“That’s the main base. Kronos also bragged about a ship, but I don’t know very much about that.”

“What about Mount Saint Helens?” Percy asked.

“I don’t know anything about that. If he has Saint Helens it was a recent development.” Chris squirmed. His stomach was starting to hurt. He didn’t want to think about Kronos. He only wanted to forget. But of course, it wasn’t allowed.

“Okay. Um… Well, the Labyrinth is pretty much done. It’s mostly destroyed. So I’m guessing Kronos is gonna fall back on that ship. I’m betting money it’s the  _ Princess Andromeda.  _ I’ll… uh. Okay. We can send Percy and a few others to sink that once we figure out where it is,” Annabeth sighed. “If anything, a mobile base is a smart strategy. It’s harder to find. Are there any smaller bases?”

Chris thought hard. His stomach squirmed with nausea as he thought about Kronos.  _ I will always be your lord, boy,  _ he remembered Kronos hissing.  _ I could break you in a heartbeat. I could starve you for all eternity, drive you into madness or simply break your neck and leave you to die. And I could do all of that immediately and easily.  _ He took a deep breath, trying not to vomit. “... Um. Okay. I remember… I think… he talked about… He said he had a few outposts. One in a remote part of Montana, I remember he said no one would ever find that one. He was using that one for munitions and weapons smithing, but if he’s going for Mount Saint Helens then in all probability he’s gonna abandon the Montana base and go there. And then he kept talking about the United Nations building in New York, but I don’t think anything’s come of it yet. Then he had another one in Washington D.C somewhere, I don’t know where. And then he still has the one out in California, Mt. Othrys?”

“We’re aware of that one, yes,” Annabeth nodded. “Okay. Yeah, we can… we can send a quest down to D.C as soon as we recuperate from the battle. Just to scout it out. And then… Montana’s next, I guess. We’ll try to infiltrate the stationary bases and when we take those down we can try to find where the  _ Princess Andromeda  _ is. Hopefully, if we keep busting his bases, we can keep him at bay long enough for the gods to do the rest. Does that sound like a good plan?”

There were general murmurs of consensus. 

Annabeth stood up, clapping twice. “All right guys, then the meeting is adjourned. Go back and check on your siblings and your injured. Tell me if you need anything.”

There were nods. Campers stood up and began to trickle slowly out of the room. Chris stayed there, rooted in place, his legs trembling. He was remembering things.  _ Your disobedience will be your undoing, fake hero. You are lucky I’m not attempting your demise.  _ Kronos’s cold voice still rang in his memories. He felt a heat in his eyes, a sting, Something dripped down his cheek, cold yet hot at the same time. 

“Bro?” Travis murmured, patting his hand. “You okay?”

“... He… he…” Chris couldn’t speak. 

“... It’s okay, man,” Travis murmured. “You’re safe now.” 

Connor looked over at Chris from where he was seated on Travis’s other side. “Ah, geez, look. He’s crying.”

“You didn’t have to point that out,” Clarisse cut in crossly, pulling Chris into a hug, leaning his head into her sturdy shoulder. “Look, he’s ashamed.”

Chris sniffled. “I…” He pulled away, brushing the tears from his eyes, taking a deep breath. “No, I’m fine. Sorry, guys. I’m okay.”

Connor nodded. “Yeah, it’s cool. Do what you need to do, man.”

Chris managed a nod. He wiped his eyes and looked at Travis again. He must have looked desperate because Travis said “Hey, man, you wanna go back to the cabin?”

Chris shrugged. “Nah. I… I’m okay.”

Travis scanned Chris’s face. “... What did he do to you?” 

“... It was fine until… until Kronos took over, then… it wasn’t fine. Kronos demanded we all obey him and  _ only _ him. He said… he said that anyone who didn’t would be punished severely. Well, a day later I was caught stealing snacks out of the base kitchen. And then… and then… oh, gods, I need to stop.” His voice cracked. 

Travis leaned in, pulling him into a hug. “He can’t hurt you now. We’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt you. It’ll… it’ll be okay.”

“... He hung me by chains on a wall. He burned my legs with… with a poker of sorts, a fireplace poker. He burned my legs, feet, genitals, what have you. And I remember he slowed down… he slowed the time so I… I would ‘feel it more,’ he said. My brain kind of started to go fuzzy at that point. I guess I couldn’t take it anymore. I remember waking up later with bandages all the way up and down my lower body. Literally from my navel to my toes.

“Anyway, I never disobeyed him again. Even when he was trying to send me into the Labyrinth, even though I knew that I would… that something really bad would happen if I went down there. I never disobeyed. I just went. And I… I had a friend. Her name was Mary. And she followed me down there, even though Kronos had told her not to. Anyway… Kronos found her and I together a few days in. He dragged her away and… and… I never saw her again. I think… I think he went overboard on the punishment and… and killed her. I don’t remember a damn thing after Mary went missing. Only flashes of things, horrible things…” Chris hiccuped, a fresh round of tears spilling down his cheeks into Travis’s shirt. “Such horrible things.”

“That sounds horrible,” Travis murmured, his voice soothing. “I’m so sorry, Chris. You didn’t… you didn’t deserve any of that.”

“But I did,” Chris whispered. “I did. I betrayed you and… and I… I knew I would be punished. I was just too proud to… to realize he’d catch me.” 

“No. You never deserved that. No matter what. There’s a reason that mortal law has protections against torture and excessive punishment. Because almost no one deserves that. Especially not you,” Travis murmured, clutching Chris a little closer. 

Chris felt someone else hug him from behind. “Yeah, man, especially not you,” Connor murmured. “I… I’m sorry, man.”

Chris leaned heavily into Travis’s shoulder. “... I… thanks,” he murmured. “... Thanks.”

“... I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Clarisse growled, her voice suddenly breaking through the tender brotherliness that surrounded Chris. “I’m gonna break that motherfucker. I’m gonna kill him with my bare hands. Fuck that guy.”

Chris pulled away, looking over at Clarisse. “Don’t be rash. I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

Clarisse turned her face from the boys. For a second, Chris could have sworn he saw her blush. “... Fine,” she said simply. “Fine.”

“Thanks. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” Chris sighed, leaning back against Travis. 

There was a pause. Chris met Connor’s eyes. “... So… Connor, have you forgiven me?”

“... I guess so,” Connor sighed. “I mean… look, I’m still a little mad. But I do feel bad for you, and what you had to go through. It wasn’t… it wasn’t what you intended when you defected, I bet.”

“It wasn’t,” Chris whispered. “I… I thought… Luke was… I mean, he was my big brother. I didn’t have any other older brothers. I never had a father. I would have…” He sniffled. “I would have followed Luke anywhere. I would have done anything for him. And… and this is what he did for me.”

“... Yeah,” Travis whispered. “That’s not how an older brother should act.” He gave Chris another side hug. 

Chris melted back against Travis. “... Thanks.”

Travis patted his back. There was a long pause as Chris and Travis held each other, Connor rubbing Chris’s shoulder awkwardly, Clarisse leaning against Chris’s back. Finally, Chris raised his head, drying his eyes. “... I… I wanna go back to the cabin now.”

“Okay,” Travis murmured. “Let’s take you home.”

They stood up. Travis led Chris out of the room, Connor on their heels. The walk was silent. None of them had anything to say. There was too much hurt, too much pain. Finally, when they reached the cabin main, Clarisse pulled Chris into a hug. “... I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

Chris leaned in, enjoying the firmness of her arms. “... It’s not your fault.”

Clarisse pulled away. She studied his face for a long time. “... Tell me if you need anything, okay?”

“Will do,” Chris sighed. 

With that, Clarisse left. Chris let Travis and Connor lead him into the cabin, let Travis lead him up into his top-bunk bed. They fell into a group hug almost automatically, legs tangled, heads on shoulders, arms around waists. Chris leaned his head into Travis’s shoulder, looping his arms around them both, holding close. “... I’m sorry,” Chris whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“... Don’t apologize. You’re back now.” Travis patted his back. 

“Yeah. You’re not a traitor anymore,” Connor murmured. “You’re back on our side. You’re giving us all the information we need. Thank you.”

“... Thanks,” Chris whispered. “... Thanks. I… I love you guys, okay?”

Travis chuckled. “Love you too, man.”

“Yeah, man, love you,” Connor snorted. “Gods, you two are saps.”

“Shut up, Con-con,” Travis snorted. “You like it.”

Connor didn’t respond, only curled closer into Travis and Chris’s arms. “... Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I received the following request from a guest identifying themselves as Rex88. "Another good chapter! I would like to see a chapter where Chris tells the counselors what happened in his time with Kronos (could be in a meeting where they ask him for info about Kronos's army). And maybe in the end we will have another brotherly moment, this time with Connor too. Keep up the good work!!" 
> 
> ... And I thought it was a really good idea, so I wrote it out! The only thing I changed was that I didn't have Chris talk about his time being tortured in front of all the head counselors because I felt as if it was the sort of thing that would be too uncomfortable to talk about in front of that many people, a lot of whom he's not super close with.
> 
> TL:DR: Guest Rex88, I filled your request.


	80. Non-shippy (some Percabeth)- Forgive Someday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarisse wants to rekindle an old fight. However, her old enemy is conspicuously absent...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a request fill for Tara! Tara, I hope this is something like what you wanted.

Clarisse half-stormed into the infirmary, her footsteps echoing. They’d just barely gotten all the injured back from the makeshift infirmary they’d used through Manhattan. She’d flown about half of them in the flying chariot. But now, she was looking for an old enemy. The battle was over, and she wanted to rekindle her old fight with Michael Yew.

She headed into the infirmary, laying eyes on Will Solace, who was stooped over the body of Miranda Gardiner. “Is she dead?” Clarisse blurted.

“... No. She’s getting better,” Will managed. “She’ll be out in a week, probably. What do you need?”

“Where’s Michael?” Clarisse blurted. 

Will’s face fell. His lip trembled. “... Dead,” he managed, his eyes becoming wet. 

Clarisse started. She looked around the infirmary. All eyes were on her, now, she could see Percy and Annabeth there, as well as that little Apollo girl whose name she didn’t know. “... Dead?” she whispered. “Just like that?”

Annabeth moved in, standing between Will and Clarisse. “Yeah. Dead. Percy told me that he… that he never made it off the bridge once it collapsed.” 

Clarisse’s eyes fell on Percy. He gave a small nod. Clarisse’s head spun. She felt helpless, surrounded somehow. She’d charged into enemy territory intending to grab and kill the leader and found no army but a small group of kids crying over the leader’s death. Her knees trembled. “... I’m sorry,” she mumbled. 

“Don’t fucking give me that!” Will screamed, jumping up and getting as far into her face as he could. “You never gave a shit about any of us! You abandoned us all! Go fuck yourself!”

Clarisse looked down. A cold something settled in her midsection. _He’s right. It was my fault. If I hadn’t been so petty… if I hadn’t abandoned everyone… if I hadn’t… if I hadn’t…_ “... I’m sorry,” she muttered flatly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“Go away,” Will sniffled. 

“Yeah, Clarisse, get the fuck out of here,” managed the little girl. “None of us want to hear you beg for redemption when we’re not gonna give it.”

“Okay,” Clarisse whispered. “I’ll go.”

And with that, she turned and walked from the infirmary. She couldn’t leave in full, instead, she stood outside the door and listened. Something in her made her unable to leave. She could hear Will sobbing, sobbing horribly. She peeked back through the door and saw Annabeth half-cradling a bawling Will Solace in her arms, petting his hair. “Hey, hey,” she was whispering. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. She didn’t mean to hurt you. She didn’t mean it. Don’t cry.” She pulled away, patting the tears out of his eyes with a Kleenex. 

The little girl crawled across the infirmary and snuggled into Will’s arms, sniffling, tears running down her cheeks too. She and Will embraced, holding close. Annabeth rubbed both of their backs. “... I’m sorry,” she was whispering. “... I’m sorry.”

Clarisse couldn’t take it anymore. She fled, finally, running for the Big House bathroom. She collapsed on her knees in front of the toilet, barely-controlled vomit pouring from her lips. It hurt so badly. “... I’m sorry,” she sobbed to no one in particular. “... I’m sorry. I… I’m the worst.”

 _Yes you are,_ screamed the voice in her head. _Glad to hear you admit it._

It was a while before she got control of her stomach. She curled up on the floor, letting tears run down over the bridge of her nose. “... I’m s-sorry,” she sniffled. “... I’m so sorry.”

She lay there for a few more minutes, wiping tears out of her eyes, before she finally sat up, sniffling, crying. She had to go back. She had to beg Will for his forgiveness. She had to. Every cell of her body yearned for redemption, oh gods, sweet redemption, she would be forgiven for all the evils she’d committed against so many. She clawed at her arm, sinking her fingernails into the flesh, leaving red marks on the scarred skin. She wondered if maybe she could pay for her sins with pain somehow, if she hurt herself badly enough then maybe as Will Solace stitched her wounds he’d forgive her, unlikely as it may be. 

She pulled a dagger from her belt and sunk it hard into her skin. “... I’m sorry.”

  
  
  


“... I’m sorry,” Percy whispered, laying eyes on Will and Kayla, curled so tight together there was no space between them, on Annabeth, who ran her hands up and down their backs so gently. “It was… it wasn’t Clarisse’s fault. It was mine.”

“Don’t be silly,” Annabeth almost-laughed. “You couldn’t have prevented anything. Michael acted as of his own free will. If his free will led him to the grave, then that’s a tragedy, but there’s no one to blame.”

Percy sniffled. “... I… I still feel like shit. I could have… I should have said no, Mike, you’re getting your ass off that bridge and there’s nothing you can do about it. I was… I was the _commander,_ oh, gods, I should have… I should have saved him.”

Annabeth stood up, leaving Will and Kayla in their embrace. She wrapped her arms around Percy’s shoulders gently. Percy leaned his face into her shoulder. “... I’m sorry you feel that way, Seaweed Brain. I swear it’s not your fault. It won’t help you if you tell yourself his death was a personal failure on your part.” She pulled away, kissing his cheek. “So put that thought out of your head, will you?”

Percy bit his lip. He wanted to beg Annabeth to keep holding him. His insides felt cold, he wanted to be held and cuddled for a very long time, but he couldn’t find words that wouldn’t make him look like a pussy. He wiped his eyes, looking over at Will and Kayla. Kayla had crawled back into bed and buried her face in the pillow. Will was almost curled up on himself, tears and snot running down his face. Annabeth passed him a tissue and he wiped his face. “... I’m sorry, Will,” Percy whispered. “I… I got your brother killed.”

Will wiped his face and looked over at Percy. Percy thought he suddenly looked very pale and sickly. “... I… I don’t blame you. Michael was… he was headstrong. I’m not surprised he didn’t listen to you. I… I don’t even blame Clarisse, I… I just couldn’t stand the way that… that she pretended she was sad about Michael’s death when she… she hated him.” Will sniffled, brushing tears out of his eyes. “... I feel bad for screaming at her. I… I’m in so much… I’m in so much pain that… that I can’t… I’m having trouble…” Will leaned his head into his hands. “... ohhh…”

“You’re having trouble putting your head in order,” Annabeth murmured. “You’re having trouble comprehending everything. And that’s okay. I think… I think as time goes on, it might become… it might become a little easier for you to manage. You might be able to comprehend it a little better.”

Will closed his eyes, swaying back and forth. “... I’m… yeah, I… I need some… I need some time. And space.”

“To heal,” Annabeth murmured. She patted his back. “Do you want me to leave?”

Will looked into her eyes. His eyes had giant dark smudges underneath them, they almost looked like bruises, but Annabeth knew he was tired. “... No.”

“... Okay,” she murmured. “Do you… do you need to sleep?”

Will looked at Miranda, then at Kayla. “... Miranda’s still hurt. I can’t sleep yet.”

Annabeth nodded. “Don’t work yourself too hard, okay?”

Will nodded. He looked tired, sick, exhausted. Annabeth wanted to tuck him into bed and pet his hair until he slept. She wanted to hold him and say _sleep, sleep, it’s okay._

Before she could say any more, Clarisse reentered. Blood was dripping down her arm. She looked around at their faces, her lip trembling slightly. “... I got hurt,” she managed. 

Will looked at her, focusing on her arm. “... So you did.” He pulled himself to his feet, scanning her arm. “... It looks more bloody than dangerous, honestly.” He teetered across the infirmary, grabbing a roll of bandages and an ambrosia square. “It doesn’t even need stitches. We’ll bandage it up real tight, you can take some ambrosia and it’ll be okay.” He wiped off the wound and wrapped it tightly in bandages. 

Clarisse took the ambrosia and nibbled on it, slowly. “... I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I am.”

“Don’t say that,” Will sighed. “Please. I don’t blame you for his death or anything but I don’t want you to say that you’re sorry regarding Michael if you hated him in life. I’m sorry for yelling at you in the way that I did but I don’t want to hear you bullshit around about ‘oh, it’s so sad!’ when you hated him and wanted to kill him yourself. Capisce?”

“Capisce,” Clarisse mumbled. “... I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“It’s… fine,” Will sighed. “Well… not really. But I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you yet, but I don’t want to argue anymore. I’m so tired.” A sob escaped his lips despite himself. “... I’m so fucking tired.”

“... Okay,” Clarisse managed numbly. “... I… I won’t fight you now. I’ll do it later.”

Will nodded. “Thank you. I’m glad we came to some sort of agreement.”

Clarisse nodded. She stood up, wrapped herself tightly in her cloak and wobbled out of the infirmary without another word. 

Annabeth watched her go. “... I’m glad you guys came to an agreement, even if it’s temporary. I hope someday it’ll lead to a permanent truce.”

“... Maybe,” Will whispered. “There’s stuff I… there’s things I need to work out in my own heart before I can fully forgive her. I… I don’t hold on to anger well, so I know I’ll forgive her someday, probably in not too long provided she doesn’t start the fight again, but I… I don’t know if I’m ready now.”

“... It’s raw,” Kayla cut in. It was the first time she’d said anything in a long time. “The pain is really raw.”

Annabeth nodded. “... Truce doesn’t mean forgiveness. Truce means no more fights. I think… I think a truce will come soon and forgiveness shortly later, at least on your end. But I do think… I think seeing Silena die changed Clarisse. I think she’ll forgive you too, and soon.”

“... I hope so,” Will whispered. “... I don’t think… I don’t even remember how I got involved. I guess just because we were related.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth said. “... I think you’re gonna be the one to end the fight. You’re gonna create a truce. I know you can.”

“... We’ll see,” Will whispered. “... I’ll work on… work on forgiving her.”

Annabeth pulled him into a slight hug. “... Good.”


	81. Some Percabeth- Failed Too Many

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason's worried about Percy after Kymopoleia attacked them. He's worried for Percy's health, both physical and mental.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for possible suicidal thoughts and a somewhat graphic vomit scene.
> 
> Takes place very shortly after Percy gets poisoned by Kymopoleia (is that how it's spelled? idk) in BOO. This was an idea I had knocking around in my head early this afternoon as I was in the shower.

“... Bro?” Jason murmured, peeking through the door of Percy’s room on the Argo II. “... You feeling any better?”

Percy lifted his head up out of the nest of pillows and blankets that concealed him. His eyes were bleary. His skin was pale, almost greenish, and a thin sheen of sweat had broken out across his forehead. “... Uh. I don’t… I don’t feel so good.”

Jason crossed the room, sitting next to him on the side of his bed. “Are you any less nauseous than before?”

Percy shook his head, pressing his face back into the pillow and groaning. “... I don’t… not… not really.”

“... I’m sorry,” Jason murmured, patting his shoulder through the comforter. “... I… I wish I could have prevented it somehow.”

“... Nah, dude, there was no way,” Percy murmured. Jason watched his pale green eyes fall closed. “... Don’t blame yourself.”

“... Why didn’t you… why did you… why did you think you deserved this?” Jason blurted, not thinking about what he was saying in the slightest.

Percy didn’t speak for the longest time. Finally, he murmured “... I’ve failed too many people. I’ve caused too much hurt. I’m sorry.” His voice broke. 

Jason kept his hand on Percy’s shoulder. “... No, I… I’m sorry,” Jason managed. “... I’m sorry you have to feel this way. I don’t… I don’t think you’re a failure. But I can’t change your mind if you do.”

Percy didn’t say anything. Jason couldn’t see Percy’s face, it was buried in the pillow. Finally, Percy whispered “... Thanks, man.”

Jason nodded. “... No problem, bro. You need… you need to talk about anything more?”

Percy shook his head. “... No. I… I… I’m a fuckup. That’s the truth. That’s all there is to it.”

Jason didn’t know what to say. “... Again, I don’t think you’re a fuckup. I don’t know what to say that would give you comfort, but I want to help you. Can I help you at all?”

Percy opened his eyes, looking up at Jason. Jason could see they were slightly bloodshot. “... I… I don’t know.” 

“... Can I give you a hug?” Jason asked quietly. 

“... I don’t know if you want to,” Percy mumbled.

“No, I do. I know you’ve been sick. I don’t care,” Jason soothed.

Percy nodded. “... Okay, man, if you want to.”

Jason slipped down to be on Percy’s level, putting his arms awkwardly around and over him, holding tight. Percy leaned in, putting his head against Jason’s chest. Jason was warm. He smelled like the air after it rained, a smell that Percy would normally find nice, but now made his stomach squirm. “... I… I’m gonna throw up again,” he mumbled, dizzily. 

“What? Oh, gods!” Jason pulled away. “Go quick!”

Percy rolled out of bed, his stomach jerking. Something wet dripped off his chin, whether it was drool or vomit, Percy didn’t know. “‘Um not gonna… not gonna… ugh...” 

Jason grabbed a wastebasket, pushing it at Percy. “Here we go. You’re gonna be fine.”

Percy’s stomach cramped hard. He fell awkwardly to his knees, on his elbows. He gagged hard as bile flooded out of his throat, burning his tongue. His throat felt like it was full of fire, it hurt badly. He flinched slightly as Jason put a hand on the small of his back. Percy was reminded suddenly of his mother, of the way she’d cuddled him when he was sick. The floor seemed to sway beneath him and he closed his eyes, one last trickle of bile escaping his lips before he was sure he was empty. He lay down, curling up in the fetal position and closing his eyes. The floor was turning beneath him. His eyelids were too heavy to open. 

“... You feel a little better?” Jason murmured. Percy felt him pat his hair gently.

“... I… I don’t… my… a little. I’m… my stomach’s empty now, at least.” His throat felt rough. Speaking hurt. 

“... You were crying,” Jason murmured. “When you were throwing up… you were crying. Was it… was it really that painful?”

Percy shook his head. “... I was… I was thinking of my… my mother. That’s all.”

“... Is she dead?”

“... No. She’s alive. I just… I haven’t spoken to her in months and she’s probably super pissed at me. I don’t… at this point…” Percy’s voice broke. “... At this point, I don’t even know if she’ll want me back.”

Jason didn’t know what to say. He gently pushed Percy’s hair out of his face. “... Here. Let me get you some water and nectar. Your throat has to hurt after… after that, and you’ve gotta be dehydrated.”

Percy leaned into the touch. “... Yeah.” 

Jason nodded, stood up and left the room. He grabbed a jug of nectar from under the bed in his own room, grabbed a water bottle and returned to Percy’s bedroom. He was halfway there when Annabeth cornered him. “Were you just with Percy?”

“... Yeah, why?” Jason replied. “I’m bringing him water and nectar because he was throwing up again.”

“... Well, my next question was gonna be ‘is he okay’ but I think the answer is no,” Annabeth sighed. “You said he was poisoned?”

“Yeah,” Jason fretted. “Is he gonna be… okay?”

“He’ll be fine. I looked up the poison used. He’ll be miserable for a while but he’ll get better,” Annabeth reassured. “That’s the only reason that I’m not panicking right now.”

“You’re so good,” Jason laughed. “No wonder Percy says you’re the brains of the operation.”

Annabeth blushed. “Aw, he’s too nice. Let’s go back to his room together so you can give him the water and nectar.”

They walked together. “Is there anything else I can do for him?” Jason asked.

“You’re doing the exact right thing,” Annabeth reassured. “There’s not much else we can do. I mean, unicorn draught would work a little quicker, but we sent all of that over with Reyna and Nico because it also helps with shadow travel symptoms and…” Annabeth sighed, putting her hand on the knob of Percy’s door and opening it. “... obviously, we didn’t anticipate this.”

Jason and Annabeth pushed into Percy’s room. Jason noticed that Percy had cleaned out the wastebasket and crawled into bed, his shaggy black hair barely visible above the comforter wrapped tightly around him. “Hey, man, I got the stuff,” Jason told the lump, extending the water bottle to him.

Annabeth crossed the room. “Seaweed Brain? You alright?”

Percy raised his head. “... Annabeth?” He took the water bottle from Jason and chugged deeply, enjoying the coolness in his throat, contrasting the hot acidic bile that had been there earlier. He opened his mouth again, finding it pleasantly easy to speak. “... I can guarantee that you do not want to be near me right now.”

Annabeth sat down on the bed, gently petting his hair. “Well, I won’t be kissing you. But I did want to make sure you were all right.”

“... It hurts,” Percy almost-moaned. “It hurts bad.”

“... I know,” Annabeth murmured. “But it won’t last forever. The poison will be out of your body in a couple of days. The good thing about diseases and poisons that attack your stomach is that it gets flushed out of your body really quickly.”

Percy held his stomach. “Don’t make me throw up again.”

Annabeth stroked his cheek. “I won’t. I’m sorry.”

Percy leaned his head against her leg. “... Thanks.”

Jason shifted, feeling somewhat awkward. “... Can Percy sit up and have this nectar, please? I think it would help.”

Percy nodded. He rolled into a sitting position, his messy black hair hanging into his eyes. “... Gimme.”

Jason laughed. He put the nectar jug in Percy’s hands and Percy drank deeply, feeling the numbing ache in his stomach dull and fade as he drank. “... Thanks, man. I needed that.”

“Yeah, I could tell. Watching you throw up like that was… yeah, it was terrible, man. I’m sorry you’re having to go through that,” Jason murmured.

Percy caught Jason’s eye. Jason could tell that he still thought he deserved what he got, maybe even thought he deserved to die, but wasn’t gonna say it in front of Annabeth. Jason leaned over and gave Percy a pat on the shoulder. “... It’ll be okay, man,” he murmured. “You’ll heal. You’ll get better.”

“... Yeah,” Percy murmured. He took Annabeth’s hand, holding it to his chest. He almost looked like he was trying to glean strength from it. “... I’ll get better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason was a really good friend.


	82. Percabeth-Percy Doesn't Listen to Good Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy hurts himself doing stupid stuff on his skateboard. Annabeth's not happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mild blood.

“Hey, Neeks,” Percy said, turning his head to Nico. They were sitting on a park bench in a dingy part of New Rome. Percy was flicking the right rear wheel of his old skateboard with one finger. “Wanna see me try and vault this park bench?”

“What, lengthwise?” Nico replied incredulously. 

“Yeah, man. It’ll be epic,” Percy laughed. 

“If you make that jump, I’m Batman. I swear.” Nico shook his head. 

“Better buy a cape, then.” Percy stood up and headed for the top of a nearby hill, situating himself on the sidewalk. 

Nico shook his head, getting up to lean against the side of a nearby building. “You’re gonna break your face, Jackson. I already know it.”

Percy laughed. “Stop being a pessimist, man.” 

Nico shook his head. Percy pushed off, his stomach lurching as he shot down the steep hill. Adrenaline shot through his veins, tingly in his midsection. His stomach was weightless. The bench grew rapidly in his sight. _Three. Two. One. Jump!_

His stomach lurched again as he narrowly cleared the front end of the bench. The wood blurred under him before he felt a jolt, his board slammed against the edge of the bench and he tumbled, his stomach lurching into his throat. The world seemed to move in slow motion. His shin banged hard against the bench, then his elbows slammed against the ground, then his face cracked hard against the pavement. Pain shot through his face. He yelped, gasping for breath. He couldn’t breathe, the pain in his nose was so intense. 

“I told you so,” were the first words he heard as his mind came back online. 

He groaned. His face throbbed. Something wet was running down his lip, his cheek. He licked at it. Blood. He was bleeding. He opened his eyes. His elbows and shin were skinned, pricks of blood were appearing in the wounds. Weird. He hadn’t even felt it over the pain in his nose. “... Ow,” he wheezed.

“Ow is right. Your nose is bleeding,” Nico replied bluntly. “Hold on. I’m getting Annabeth.”

Percy watched as Nico ran off. He took a deep breath, trying to stop wheezing. He closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath and holding it. _You’re not that badly hurt. Calm down. Like, seriously. It’s probably not even broken._

It took a few deep breaths before he could stop wheezing. He sat up slowly, groaning a little more. _Fucking hell. You can take this kind of injury in battle and be fine, but as soon as you eat pavement you’re incapacitated? What kind of demigod are you?_ “... Ah, fuck,” Percy grumbled, touching his face. “... I’m bleeding.”

Just then, Annabeth came running up to him. “Seaweed Brain! What the fuck happened?”

“... Wiped out.” Percy managed a grin. 

“You’re such an _idiot,”_ Annabeth grumped, dipping into a squat and holding a cloth under Percy’s bloody nose. “Don’t think Nico didn’t tell me what happened.”

“I know, I know,” Percy sighed, leaning into the cloth. He watched as the blood spread across the fabric. “And I’m sorry for worrying you. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to do something cool.”

Annabeth leaned in and pecked Percy on the cheek. Percy’s cheek was soft as velvet. “I know, Seaweed Brain. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Percy blushed. “... Thanks,” he murmured, the pain in his nose fading at the fire she lit in his chest. 

Annabeth put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re cute when you’re flustered. Your face goes all red. Now, stand up and let’s get you some nectar, okay?”

Percy nodded mutely. Annabeth put her hand out, helping him up. She put her arm around his waist and he put his around hers. She led him back to their apartment building, up the stairs and into their apartment, sitting him down on the couch. “Sit here while I get you some nectar. You’re all banged up.”

Percy nodded. He watched as Annabeth pulled a jug of nectar from under the sink. She poured some into a glass and returned to his side. “Here. Drink this.”

Percy took the glass and drank, enjoying the relief from the steadily throbbing pain in his nose. “... Thanks.”

“Always welcome,” Annabeth murmured, kissing his cheek again and wrapping her arms around him. “Yeah, I don’t think your nose is broken. I think it’s just bloody.”

Percy chuckled. “Yeah. I’m glad about that. At least I have you to fix me up.” He relaxed against her, finding her warm and soft. “And it’s not bleeding anymore.” He wiped up the last of his blood on the cloth.

Annabeth laughed. “You’re too sweet.” She shook her head. “You better not do anything like this again, though, okay?”

Percy chuckled. “Can’t guarantee that, Wise Girl.”

Annabeth shook her head, kissing over his neck and cheek. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“No, I am. I really am,” Percy laughed, moving his body to kiss her cheek. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Annabeth blushed. “... Thank you.” She held him close, burying her face in his broad chest. He smelled intoxicatingly sweet. “... I love you.”

Percy gave her a squeeze. “I love you too, Wise Girl. You’re the best.”

Annabeth lingered in his arms for a few more minutes, enjoying the sweetness, the warmth. She looked up into his face. His nose was still a tiny bit bruised, and there was still a tiny smudge of blood on his lip and cheek. A smile took over her face. She leaned in and kissed his lips, taking his bottom lip between hers, sucking gently. His breath was warm over her cheek. “... Seaweed Brain,” she mumbled. “My Seaweed Brain.”

Percy pulled away, gasping and panting. “Wise Girl. Ah. Sorry, I… I can’t… I need to catch my breath. I’m sorry.”

Annabeth nodded, resting her head against his shoulder. “Of course. It’s cool.” She listened to Percy as his heavy breathing eased up. “... Thanks for letting me kiss you.”

“Always,” Percy panted. “It’s my pleasure, Wise Girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting for a few days. I was working on D&D stuff.


	83. Non-shippy-I Think This Is About Bianca

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyna doesn't feel safe in New Rome after joining the Hunt. Turns out, she's not just paranoid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mild violence and mentions of Bianca's death.

“Are you  _ sure  _ you want to visit New Rome?” Reyna asked for the millionth time, her knuckles white on the wheel. 

Thalia sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with her silver circlet. “My brother is fucking buried there. We were camped just outside ‘Frisco. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“No, I get it, I just…” Reyna sighed. “I don’t want trouble.”

“What do you mean? Hazel and Frank do a fine job. I don’t think anyone would harass you into coming back,” Thalia shrugged. “Besides, it’s just a short jaunt to the graveyard and back. It’ll be fine.”

Reyna nodded swiftly. “... Of course. No, I’m just… nervous. I’m fine.”

Thalia nodded. “Alright.”

There was silence. Thalia watched Reyna’s hands, her knuckles white on her wheel-clutching hand, her other hand fiddling repeatedly with a lone denarii she still had. Reyna took a hard right into the parking lot nearest New Rome and parked. “Here we are. You wanna get out?”

Thalia nodded. She exited the car. Naomi and Hunter were lounging in the back of the truck. “Alright. I’m gonna go to the graveyard. I’ll see you later.”

Hunter shrugged. “Cool. You have fun with that.”

“Yeah. I’ll have fun. Hanging out in front of my brother’s fucking grave. Yeah, you have fun, Hunty,” Thalia muttered as she stormed off, vaulting the gate of the cemetery and disappearing into the night. 

Reyna looked up, but she couldn’t see any stars. She got out of the car and joined Hunter and Naomi in the back of the truck. “Hey, guys, how was my driving?”

“Well, you didn’t hit anything,” Naomi shrugged. 

Reyna laughed uneasily. “Of course.”

“Also, are you okay?” she asked. “You’ve seemed off all day.”

“... Yeah. I… I’m just getting a really bad feeling about this. I don’t like… I don’t feel safe here.”

Hunter cocked her head, looking around. “... I don’t see anybody. Or hear anybody. But we could check it out if you want.”

Reyna nodded and jumped out of the truck bed, grabbing her bow and arrows and a spear. “Alright. I’m going.”

Hunter nodded. “You want me to go with you?”

“No. Stay here. I’ll do it myself. It’ll… it’ll be fine,” Reyna nodded stiffly. “After all, I’m probably just paranoid.” With that, she tiptoed into the nearby brush, holding her breath. 

_ Crack.  _

“Who goes there?” Reyna shouted, brandishing her spear. She looked around. There was no one. She looked down. It was a stick. A stick she had stepped on.  _ Shit. Well, if anyone didn’t know I was here before, they definitely know I’m here now. Fuck my ass with a cactus.  _

She listened some more. Something rustled. Reyna whirled again, feeling a cool wind in her face.  _ Oh. It was just the wind. _

Then she heard a loud crack and a shout. She whirled around just to feel something thump hard and fast and aching against her breast. She’d been punched in the chest. She screamed and stabbed blindly, hearing someone jump away. She heaved a breath, looking up. A lone shadowy figure was standing before her. “... What do you want?” she asked.

“Nothing anymore,” a trembling masculine voice responded. 

He moved towards her and she stabbed again. “Naomi! Hunter!” she screamed.

She heard her friends crashing through the brush. “What? I… Oh!” Hunter nocked an arrow. Two silver arrows flew past her into the night. Another arrow hit its mark. The shadowy figure howled and flinched back before lunging again at Hunter and Naomi, sending them scrambling. Reyna stabbed at it, missed and saw the figure jump back again.

Then an enormous boom of thunder echoed and lightning struck a nearby tree, illuminating the scene, if only for a second. “Stop,” a booming voice echoed.

“Thalia! I don’t know what happened, I…” Naomi immediately protested.    


“Unless you’re injured, I don’t want to hear it,” Thalia bit. “Naomi, Hunter, go back to the truck. I’ll handle it from here.”

Reyna, meanwhile, was too stunned to respond. “...  _ Nico?”  _

“Shut up,” the shadowy figure mumbled. 

Thalia caught him in the beam of a flashlight she carried. She grabbed his arms while he was stunned, tying them tight with a rope. “That’ll hold him. So he can’t hit anyone anymore.”

Reyna studied his face for the first time in years. He still had the same big brown eyes, but his face was sharper and his lips were pressed tight together. “... Why?” Reyna managed. “I thought… I thought we were…” She shook her head wordlessly. 

“Reyna, go back to the truck,” Thalia cut in. “You’ve probably got a big bruise, and I want to talk to Nico alone.”

Reyna nodded silently. She felt the tears threatening in her sinuses, and she didn’t want to cry in front of Thalia and… Nico. She got up and stumbled back to the truck, sniffling.

Thalia watched her go. “I’ll handle it from here.” She gave Nico’s bindings one last tug to make sure he couldn’t hit her and sat next to him. “So… why?”

Nico was silent.

“Can you hear me okay? I asked you why you tried to fight Reyna.”

Nico stayed silent.

“Are you just being a lame, or what?” Thalia asked, raising an eyebrow at Nico. 

“... Because.” His voice was hoarse. “... I couldn’t… I wanted to hurt her the way she hurt me. I… she… I know. I know it’s wrong. It’s so wrong. And I know I shouldn’t have done it.”

“... You two were close, weren’t you?” Thalia cast the flashlight down, lying in the grass. 

“... Yeah,” Nico muttered. “Although that apparently didn’t mean much to her.”

“Because she left for the Huntresses?” 

“... Yeah,” Nico whispered.

“... I don’t think this is really about Reyna,” Thalia murmured, trying to make her voice as gentle as possible. “I think this is about Bianca.”

Nico was silent for a long time. Thalia shone the flashlight on him again. Small tears were dribbling down his cheeks. 

Thalia continued. “... I don’t think you’re mad at Reyna. I think you’re mad at me. I think you’re mad at me because I symbolize her.”

“No, Thalia. I’m mad because you replaced her. You replaced her with no ceremony and no shits given. It was like… did her existence even matter to you?” Nico whispered, his voice trembling with white-hot rage.

“I-”

“Tell me, Daughter of Zeus, did Bianca’s life matter to you?” Nico screamed, lunging at Thalia before realizing that his hands were quite literally tied and backing off.

“Yes,” Thalia murmured. “Yes, it did. We held a funeral for her as soon as we got back together. Artemis herself was crying. I saw it myself. Her life did matter. It mattered a lot. It mattered to a lot of people.”

Nico didn’t respond. Thalia turned to look at him. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. She heard him hiccuping softly. 

“... I’m sorry, Nico. I am.”

“Shut up,” Nico growled. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Thalia nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry.” She stood up. “Promise not to hurt me or anyone else?”

“... I promise,” Nico sniffled.

Thalia cut him loose. “There. You’re free.” She sat back down. “... So… you punched Reyna because you were mad at me because I replaced Bianca, who died? Is that the story I’m getting here?”

“That… I… I was so mad at Reyna when she joined. I just… I loved her so much and when she… when she abandoned me for the Hunt, I just… I… something in my mind just snapped. I started to… I  _ hated  _ her for leaving me. I hated her. I hated her so much.” Nico’s voice broke. 

“You resented her for abandoning you,” Thalia murmured. 

“... Yeah. I know. It’s shitty and neckbeardy and I’m sorry.”

“Tell her that. Not me,” Thalia sighed. “Do you want me to bring her here?”

“... No,” Nico sniffled. “... I never want to see her again. And I’m sure she feels the same way.”

Thalia nodded. “... I don’t think she actually hates you. I think she cares for you deeply even now. I just… I think she joined because… because she was so distraught over Jason that she… she just assumed she’d never find another good man.”

“Possibly true. But I… I’m so mad. I’m so fucking mad. I don’t care what her excuse was. She hurt me.” His voice broke. “She fucking hurt me.”

Thalia patted her knee. “... I’m sorry. I know. You’re very hurt. And… and I’m sorry. I’m sorry about Bianca and I’m sorry about Reyna.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Nico sniffled. “Not from you.” His voice was full of resentment.

“... Understood,” Thalia whispered, standing up with her back to Nico. “... Well, if you don’t want to hear anymore out of my mouth, then I’ll go. I want to… I came to… I need to make sure Jason’s grave is intact.” She turned for one last look at Nico. “I got involved in a fight before I made it there.”

“... I’m sorry,” Nico called. Thalia turned. Nico was standing there with one arm out. “I’m sorry.”

“For Jason? Wasn’t your fault,” Thalia snorted. “Why would I blame you?”

“No, I’m offering condolences. Losing a sibling hurts like hell. I’m sorry.”

Thalia nodded. “... It does. I’m sorry for… hurting you. I truly meant you and Bianca no malice.”

Nico looked at her. It was a long look. “... I despise your organization. I dislike your choices. But… I can see why people would enjoy your company. You’ve got some people skills.”

Thalia grinned. “Thank you.”

Nico nodded stiffly. “You’re welcome.”

“... Should I tell Reyna you’re sorry?” Thalia asked.

“... Fine,” Nico whispered.

“... I hope someday you can see this as something other than a personal betrayal,” Thalia murmured. “Because I don’t think she had you in mind when she joined.”

“She never even cared enough to consider me,” Nico sniffled, brushing tears out of his eyes. 

Thalia was quiet for a long time. She pulled a Kleenex out of her pocket and gave it to him. “Here. Your face is all teary.”

“... Thanks,” Nico whispered. He wiped his eyes. “... Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Thalia responded. “I don’t care.”

There was another long pause. “... I gotta go,” Thalia sighed. “I want to see… see Jason.”

Nico nodded. “... Yeah. I just got back from there. His grave is… it’s beautiful. They did him well.”

“No, they did. I have so much respect,” Thalia admired. “They did… they did my baby well.” Her eyes stung and she wiped them quickly. “I’d say I’ll see you later, but I don’t think you want to see me later, so…”

“... Yeah,” Nico sighed. “... Tell Reyna I’m sorry, okay?”

“Will do,” Thalia sighed. She watched as Nico melted into shadows.  _ What an unfortunate boy,  _ she thought, walking to the truck. _ Lost a sibling, then his best friend goes and reopens the wound. The Fates really are cruel.  _ Thalia jumped into the bed of the truck, almost hitting Reyna. Reyna was curled up in the flat of the truck, crying softly. “So I talked him down and--you okay?” Thalia asked stupidly.

“... You were right,” Reyna sniffled. “Nico does hate me now.”

Thalia sighed. “You want to know why?”

“... Why?” Reyna sniffled, wiping her eyes. 

“Because. His… oh, gods. He had a sister.”

“You mean Hazel?”

“No. Different sister. Her name was Bianca and she was lieutenant before me. She… she was killed about a week after she joined,” Thalia sighed. “Nico never got over it. He’s despised us ever since.”

Reyna sniffled. She tried to think about how she’d feel if Hylla got killed. “... Now I understand why he tried to fight me… us. I… if I had known that, I don’t think I ever would have joined.”

Thalia sighed. She reached out and gently brushed Reyna’s soft hair off of her cheek with a tender hand. “... It’s too late to doubt your choices now. Nico… he wants to say he’s sorry. I think he… I don’t think he’s as angry as he used to be.”

Reyna sniffled. “He was… he was one of the best friends I’ve ever had. And one of the most generous, good, kind men I’ve ever met. Once you get through his layers of bullshit, that is.”

Thalia lay down beside her, rubbing her hand. “... That makes sense. I don’t doubt that he’s good within. I just think… I just think he’s… he’s got so much anger that he doesn’t know what to do with it, you know?”

“No, he does. Nico has rage. I was always able to see it. It’s… I think a worse man would have killed me for betraying him the way that I did.”

“... Perhaps,” Thalia responded. “Although very few people deserve to die for making one bad decision.”

“Of course,” Reyna sniffled. “I just… I feel so terrible, oh…”

“Don’t.” Thalia wrapped her in a hug. “It won’t help.”

Reyna sank into her arms, enjoying the warmth. “... Thanks,” she whispered.  _ Oh, gods, Nico. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, Nico. _

_ You’ll always be my biggest regret. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I feel about this one. What do you think?  
> Also, in the original version of this, Nico actually stabs Reyna, not punches her. But I thought a punch was more fitting of the situation. After all, he doesn't truly hate her. He's just full of rage, so much rage. I feel bad for him.


	84. Frazel, Chrisse- Next Time Consider Using A Weapon That Doesn't Immediately Incapacitate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarisse and Frank have their every-visit-or-whatever-ly spar. This one goes south.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this idea a few days ago, wrote like all of it, then realized I had no idea how to finish it and sat on it for a few days. Then I pulled it out, dusted it off, wrote a (sort of) ending and posted it. IMO, it's still not good.
> 
> Warnings for violence.

Frank felt a cold sweat run down his spine. He looked to Hazel, who gave him a big thumbs-up from the coliseum stands. Frank barely registered the announcer as he spoke. “And now our Praetor Zhang fights the Slayer from Sparta!” He looked back at Clarisse, who was grinning widely in anticipation of their fight. They had a yearly sparring thing that went on, as siblings do. 

“Two… One… Go!” Clarisse charged at the announcer’s call. It was like being charged by a bull. Frank immediately turned into bear form. Clarisse was unfazed. She jumped at him, her spear extended. Frank dodged and rolled, trying to bite at her legs. Unfortunately, Clarisse had sparred with him enough times previously to know to dodge it. She landed, rolled and struck hard at him, missing him by an inch. Frank lunged at her as soon as he was on his feet, growling loudly, gnashing his teeth. He barely missed the meat of her thigh as she dodged. Frank reeled as Clarisse kicked him hard in the throat, feeling the pain bloom. 

“That’ll fuckin’ teach you!” Clarisse shrieked.

_ Fuck you too,  _ Frank thought, growling loudly and lunging for Clarisse, grabbing her non-dominant arm in his jaw. 

Clarisse felt the pain of the bite sear through her arm. She whirled and stabbed hard at Frank, grazing his side. Frank twitched as the electricity burned into his body, releasing her arm. Clarisse laughed through the pain. “That’s more like it.”

Frank growled loudly. He swiped at her, sending her helmet tumbling to the ground. Claw marks laced her cheek, blood beading in the wounds. Clarisse yowled and smashed Frank in the snout with her shield. Frank reeled and jumped at her again, pinning her down. Her spear tumbled out of her hand and landed a few feet away. The crowd screamed in approval. 

That only made Clarisse angrier. She howled, fumbling for her spear. She slammed Frank one more time. It didn’t work. The world seemed to move in slow motion as Frank’s jaws fixed around her neck. Finally, she felt something cylindrical and slender. Her spear! Ares  _ did  _ love her. She grabbed it, striking hard in the second before Frank could bite. The spear jammed into the sinews of Frank’s shoulder and he rolled hard, flopping into the ground and twitching, foam filling his mouth. Clarisse jumped up. Frank had turned back into a human, he was lying there, seizing hard. Clarisse pointed her spear at his trachea, ready to jam it into his throat, ready to end his misery…

… and then she wasn’t there anymore. She was in the Big House basement, feeling Frank hold her, wipe her tears, as she cried about Silena. She was focusing on his smile, hearing his voice. She was watching as he hugged Hazel, kissing her. She was feeling his goodbye hug the day he left Camp Half-Blood. 

She blinked and pulled back her spear. The arena was deathly silent. She looked around. Everyone seemed too stunned to speak. “... Get this man some medical help!” Clarisse bellowed, pointing to Frank, who was curled up on the ground, still seizing somewhat. Blood ran from his shoulder, pooling on the ground beneath him. 

A young man with tan skin ran over. He and two others hauled Frank onto a stretcher of sorts and hauled him off, his arm hanging down off the stretcher, his skin ghostly pale. Clarisse looked around. People were starting to leave, there was no speaking. Clarisse couldn’t tell if people were stunned because a Praetor had just been vanquished in battle, because an outsider had vanquished him or because she hadn’t bothered to kill him. Clarisse joined them in their exodus, slipping out of her set of gates, leaning against the wall of the small stone tunnel. 

“That was crazy,” came an almost-whispered voice from behind. She turned. It was Chris. “You could have killed him if you wanted, you know.”

“I… I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take his life,” Clarisse whispered, leaning into Chris’s touch as he laced an arm around her waist. “He was too good to me. I couldn’t do it.”

Chris nodded. “Makes sense.”

Clarisse relaxed into Chris’s touch, leaning on his shoulder and closing her eyes. “... I want to go with him. To hospital, I mean.”

Chris nodded. “Makes sense. But we should let the doctors treat him first. That spear probably did a number on him. He’s probably pretty weak.”

  
  
  
  
  


It was the next day when Clarisse managed to gain access to Frank’s hospital room. Frank was lying still in the bed, Hazel leaning on his chest, her tiny hand lying over his big one. “... How is he?” Clarisse whispered. 

Hazel raised her head. “... Well, the doctors got the seizing to stop. The spear cauterized the wound instantly, so there’s not much bleeding. The burns are pretty ugly, though. The doctors say they might take a week or two to heal fully, even with ambrosia and nectar. He’s just resting now.”

Clarisse was silent for a long time. She wandered over to where Frank was lying in the bed. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “... I’m sorry.”

“... I’m just glad you didn’t kill him.” Hazel’s voice broke. “I… when you challenged him, I… I was so scared, I thought he was… I thought he was dead. I thought you were gonna kill him.”

“... I couldn’t do it,” Clarisse murmured. “I looked down and… I mean, he was just lying there limp and… he wasn’t fighting me anymore. It was… there was no more threat. It would have been only too wrong. If I had killed him, that was.” Clarisse sat down in a chair next to Frank, studying his face, the small wrinkles around his eyes. His face was round, which looked almost wrong in contrast to his tall, strong frame. His cheeks didn’t look as round when he wasn’t smiling like he normally was. It gave Clarisse a funny pain in her chest, something she wasn’t used to feeling except when it came to Chris. 

“... So you do have a heart,” Hazel murmured. “Funny, Percy always tells me you’re heartless.”

“I’m not necessarily heartless,” Clarisse replied, leaning back in her chair. “Percy’s mad because I don’t like  _ him.” _

Hazel cocked her head. “Any reason? Or is it just the sort of thing where he rubs you the wrong way?”

“I think he’s a cocky sonofabitch who doesn’t have an ounce of respect for anyone or anything,” Clarisse replied frankly. “Also, he sprayed me with raw sewage.”

Hazel frowned. “That’s unlike him. Why’d he do that?”

Clarisse stared at Frank’s unmoving face for a long time. “... I may have tried to stick his head in a toilet.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s why. If you hurt Percy, he’s gonna fight back,” Hazel said. “That’s just what he does.”

Clarisse was quiet. “... I suppose he and I are more similar than I thought.”

There was a long pause. Clarisse finally looked up. Hazel had gone back to looking at Frank. Her small fingers stroked over his large knuckles, square fingers. She picked up his hand and held it to her cheek, closing her eyes. Clarisse thought of Chris, thought of holding his hand to her cheek as she screamed for him to  _ please, please _ remember who she was, thought of holding his face in her hands as he gasped and sobbed, his mind barely there, scenes of torture and death inscribed on his retinas. 

It made her shudder to remember it. 

“... I’m glad he’s okay,” Clarisse mumbled. “For he, yourself and I.”

Hazel looked at her for a moment before a big smile took over her face. “Thanks. I… I kind of assumed you’d hate me because I was friends with Percy.”

Clarisse shrugged. “I don’t care enough to hate everyone Percy cares about. I mean, they say I hate everybody, but really, I just don’t care.”

“But you hate Percy?”

“Kinda. I mean, I just think he’s obnoxious. I’ve felt real hate, and I don’t feel it towards Percy,” Clarisse sighed. 

Hazel nodded. “No, that makes sense. Real hate is reserved for… special people. Special circumstances.”

“Right. You’re smart,” Clarisse replied. She studied Hazel’s face, her round little nose. “... You know he loves you, right?”

“I’m aware. I’m very secure in our relationship,” Hazel insisted. “We both are.”

“That’s a good thing,” Clarisse murmured. “That’s a very good thing.”

Hazel gave Frank’s fingers a kiss, nodding.

It was another moment before Frank began to stir. “Mmh. Mom... Grandma.” He opened his eyes. “Hazel,” he greeted, not seeming to notice that Clarisse was there. 

“Let me guess, you’re sorry?”

“... Extremely,” Frank murmured hoarsely. 

Hazel rolled her eyes, then leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t worry about it. I… I’m not  _ that _ mad.”

Frank smiled. “Didn’t think you were, but okay.” He extended his arms and Hazel snuggled into them, patting his broad shoulders. They stayed close long enough for Clarisse to become uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat and looked down.

Finally, they separated. “... Do you feel okay?” Hazel asked. 

“The wound hurts like hell, but other than that, I’m all right. A little weak and shaky, but okay.”

Hazel nodded. She looked over at Clarisse; Frank followed her gaze. “Clarisse!” he greeted, extending his arms. “I didn’t think you’d come to visit me, honestly.”

Clarisse leaned into him, holding him gently, ruffling his hair. “... You’re not mad?”

“Not really. It was a spar, wasn’t it? I lost fair and square.” The smile was evident in Frank’s voice. He leaned into her shoulder.

Clarisse pulled away after a moment, flashing a grin. “Glad you can admit it, Zhang.”

Frank laughed. He tried to move his arm to smack her and winced as pain shot through the wound in his shoulder. “... Shut up,” he finally managed.

Clarisse snorted, sitting back down. “Can’t smack me if your arm don’t work.”

Frank then smacked her with his other hand. 

Clarisse yelped. “Why? I visited you in the hospital and everything!”

“Come on, man, I barely touched you,” Frank protested.

Clarisse pouted. “Yeah, but what about the emotional scars?”

“... You’re not serious, are you?”

“No, of course not, punk,” Clarisse snorted. “Don’t be stupid. I’m just playing.” 

Frank nodded. There was a pause before Clarisse grabbed Frank in another hug. “... I’m really fucking glad you’re not too permanently hurt.”

Frank smiled. “... Thanks. I’m glad you’re not too badly hurt as well.”

Clarisse pulled away. Frank could see something wet glistening in her eyes. “... Thanks.”

“If you need a tissue,” Frank whispered, “they’re right over there.” He gestured to the tissue box at his bedside. 

“I’m okay,” Clarisse replied. She took a tissue and wiped the forming moisture out of her eyes. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Although if you really care for my well-being that much…”

“Oh, I’m not gonna stop sparring you. I don’t love you  _ that  _ much.” Clarisse patted his shoulder. “But next time, I might consider using a weapon that doesn’t immediately incapacitate.”

Frank laughed. “Love you too, man.”


	85. Non-shippy (referenced Solangelo and Percabeth)-Missing That Puppylike Grin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy comes to Nico near tears with a request. Nico complies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guilty Percy. No real warnings, though. But it is sad.

Nico was almost asleep when he heard the knock on the door. Sure, it was mid-morning. But Nico had stayed up all night playing on his Gameboy and now, after lying to Will about it at breakfast, he was ready to sleep. “What do you want?” he shouted, fully expecting it to be Will. 

“... Can I ask your help on something?”

Nico groaned. _Unless it involves you leaving and going to do something else, then no._ “What is it, Percy?”

“... Will you let me in?”

Nico huffed and rolled out of bed, banging the door open. “What do you want?”

Percy flinched back slightly. Nico could see that his eyes were red and puffy. He sniffled. “... I… could you… summon Jason? Please? I… I want to…” His voice broke. He took a deep breath. “I want to talk to him.” 

Nico bit his lip. He wanted so badly to tell Percy to go away and let him sleep, but he honestly thought that Percy would burst into tears right there on his doorstep if he did. “... Fine. Let’s go.”

Percy nodded. He stumbled off of the Hades cabin’s doorstep. He looked like a wobbly newborn deer, his legs stiff and pained. Nico watched him carefully. “... Did you even bring any food? You know I need food.”

Percy held up a bag. “... I went and got a pizza and a Pepsi, I know he prefers Pepsi to Coke.”

“... That’s the nicest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Nico snorted. 

Percy didn’t respond. They stumbled behind the Hades cabin, Percy leaning against the wall.

Nico didn’t wait for him to find words. He knelt down in the dirt, yanking the bag from Percy’s hand. He bowed his head and began the ritual. “May he rise again. May Jason Grace wake and speak again in the living world.”

A shadowy figure coalesced in the coolish midmorning fog. Nico recognized a familiar puppylike grin. “Hey, guys,” Jason greeted. “How are you doing?”

Percy bit his lip hard. “... I… I’m so… I’m so sorry, Jason. I’m so sorry. Jason, I could have saved you. If I had been there, I could have saved you and killed Caligula in one stroke and… and it would all have been okay.” Percy’s voice broke. “It would all have been okay.”

Jason was silent for a long time. His eyebrows crinkled in a soft sympathy. “Percy, I… I’m not mad. Yes, you could have saved me. But you weren’t there. And neither you nor I can change that.”

Percy bit his lip harder. “... I’m sorry.”

“Don’t bite so hard,” Jason murmured. “You’ll make your lip bleed.”

“... Jason, you’re _dead.”_ His voice broke again. Nico saw a tear trace down his cheek in the dim light. “Why are you worried about me?”

“As you said, I’m dead. I can’t hurt anymore. You’re alive. Flesh and blood. Flesh that can be injured,” Jason reasoned.

Percy sniffled. Nico could see snot beginning to drip on his lip. “... I… I know. I… I’m so sorry. I should have… I should have gone to help Meg and Apollo. I could have… I should have saved you, Jason. I should have saved you.” 

Jason reached for Percy. Nico held out his hand, focusing. Jason’s arms wrapped firmly around Percy’s shoulders as quiet hiccups began to choke out of his throat. Percy leaned in, resting his head on Jason’s shoulder, somehow solid and real, as if he were alive. Jason’s body felt as warm as it had in life somehow. Percy bit his lip again as tears began to pour down his cheeks, uncontrollably. He wanted to scream, howl, beg the gods to _please_ let him take Jason’s place. “... It should have been me. Not you. I should… I should have died instead. I should have gone with Apollo and Meg and died in your place.”

“No,” Jason whispered, rubbing his hand softly over Percy’s back. “No. Percy… my time was up. My usefulness was worn out. I’d done what I had to do. I’d made plans to honor all the gods and given them to Apollo to be carried out. Piper didn’t want me anymore. I wasn’t doing well in school. I didn’t have any plans. It was for the best that I died.”

“And you fucking think _I_ was doing well in school? Or that _I_ have any real plans? Godsdammit, Jase, I…” His voice broke violently. “... I don’t ever want you to feel like you deserve it.” He looked up. “Because I’ve been there, and it’s a horrible feeling. I’m so sorry.”

Jason could see the mess of tears and snot on his face, his saltchapped cheeks, bloodshot eyes. “... It’s not your fault.” His voice cracked. A hot, sticky, painful feeling rose in his chest. “It’s not. None of my misfortune is your fault.”

“... We’re upset because you’re the last person who deserves misfortune,” Nico murmured. He wrapped his arms around Jason’s back, joining the hug, leaning against his back. 

“Nico’s right,” Percy sniffled. “You never deserved that. You deserve so much better than what you got.” He rested his head back on Jason’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth, the softness, for the few minutes he could have it. 

There was a moment of silence. Jason focused hard on Percy’s body, warm and vividly alive. He tried to focus on sending as much care and comfort into the touch as possible, hoping it would stop Percy’s tears, heal his heart a little bit, if only for the few minutes they could touch. “... Thanks,” Jason finally murmured, leaning his head into Percy’s shoulder. “... I really needed that.”

Percy nodded. “I bet you did.” He pulled away, wiping his eyes. “... I… I needed that too.”

Nico pulled away. He gasped. “Oh, crap. I…” He blinked, suddenly feeling dizzy and nauseous. “I can’t make you solid anymore, Jason. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for what you did,” Jason murmured. “I… I needed that.”

“You said that already,” Nico pointed out. “But you’re welcome. I’m glad I could help you, man.”

Jason sniffled. “... Oh, crap. I’m actually gonna cry. Guys, I’m actually gonna cry.”

“Don’t,” Nico murmured. “Don’t cry. It’s good. We love you, man. We don’t want to see you cry.”

Jason took a deep breath, composing himself. “I’m good. I’m good. I’m calm, cool and collected.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Percy sniffled, taking a deep breath of his own. “Also, Jason… are you happy? In Elysium? Is it cool?”

“It’s all right,” Jason shrugged. “I’ve got some friends here. And I met some new friends, too. So I’m not too miserable. But I do miss you guys.”

“We miss you too,” Percy replied. “So much.”

Jason smiled. His sweet grin made Percy’s heart ache. “Thanks, guys.” Then he flickered. “Oh, crap. I’m fading. Percy, will you and Annabeth make sure to treat each other right for me?”

Percy nodded. “Always will.”

“Marry her someday, will you? She loves you more than anything,” Jason called, fading.

“... As soon as I stop being a pussy,” Percy sighed. 

Jason’s sweet laugh was the last thing Percy heard before he faded entirely. Percy sniffled and wiped his eyes. “... I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to start crying so hard in front of you.”

Nico shrugged, falling hard against the wall. The thirty-six hours of no sleep and all the summoning were taking its toll on him. “Don’t care. You cry, you cry. It’s not my problem.”

“... Thanks, I guess,” Percy sniffled. “... You okay?”

Nico raised his eyebrows. “Why do you care?”

“... I mean… you just summoned one of our mutual best friends. I thought… I thought that maybe you might be a little affected,” Percy sighed, wiping his eyes.

“... I am affected. It still hurts me. But… I don’t cry about it as much anymore,” Nico sighed. “I guess… I mean, I cried a lot when I originally felt it, but after that… it kind of faded.”

Percy sighed. “... I guess you have more experience in dealing with grief than I do. You’re better at it.”

Nico laughed bitterly. “I’m not. But I do think… I do think that you should stop beating yourself up over it. You weren’t there. You had no way of knowing what happened would happen.”

Percy nodded. “I mean, it just… it just hurts so fucking bad to know that I _could_ have saved him, you know?”

Nico nodded. “No, I know the feeling.”

Percy didn’t have to ask why. “... I’m glad you understand.”

There was a pause. Nico scanned Percy’s face. His eyes were red and he was still sniffling somewhat, but he wasn’t crying anymore. “... Oh, fuck, I’m tired.”

Percy nodded. “I am too. Maybe we should go back to our cabins and go to bed.”

Nico yawned. “Yeah. Maybe we should. I’ll bet you five drachma that I have a nightmare before you do.”

Percy yawned again, standing up. “Deal.”


	86. Some Percabeth- Percy's Spells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy has an issue at the New Year's celebration.  
> AKA: Percy shouldn't be around alcohol, or drunk people, or loud noises. Frank helps him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for panic attack-type spells. Percy has PTSD pretty bad. Mentions of child abuse and one or two off-color jokes.

Percy was going to scream.

His mind was racing, his knees were weak. He looked around at the faces of the giggly drunken New Year’s revelers and all he saw was Gabe. He looked around for Annabeth, but she wasn’t there. _Where is she? Annabeth. He wants to have a talk with you. He’s gonna beat your ass. You’re gonna be bloody for days. Bloody. So much blood. Where’s Annabeth? Where’s Mama? Mama. Mama._ He wobbled into a nearby alley that smelled vaguely of garbage, flopping to his knees. _Go away, Mama. I don’t want you to see all of this blood._ His mind swelled from the shouting around him, echoing into the alley. He was surrounded by enemies. _Just do it,_ he dared. _Just take me out. Send me to the Fields of Punishment where I belong._ He looked around. Ghostly shadows surrounded him, torchlight and lamplight flickered into the black little alley. Shadowy hands reached at him, shadows that looked like claws. Enemies. Monsters. He was going to die. The shadow of a plump man with a beer gut flickered through the alley. Percy’s stomach recoiled powerfully. _No. No. He’s gonna beat me. I’m gonna die. He’s gonna kill me this time. Or he’s gonna kill Mama._ Percy gagged, groaning. Nothing came up. He closed his eyes, pushing his hands over his ears, rocking back and forth. _I’m going to die. I’m surrounded. So many enemies. I’m going to get beat. I’m going to get lashed. I won’t be able to stop bleeding. Mama’s going to see. She’s going to cry. They’re going to see and they’ll say look at that boy, covered all in dirt. So disgusting. Just leave him alone. Just leave him. Don’t ask him if he’s hurt. Don’t ask him if anyone’s hurting him. I’m surrounded. I’m going to die. Where’s Annabeth? Where’s Mama?_ He patted his pocket and his breath caught. _Where’s Riptide? I’m fucking defenseless. I’m going to die. I’m actually going to die._

Percy flinched at the presence of a soft touch on his back. He whirled, leaning against the wall, putting an arm in front of him. “Don’t fucking hurt me! I’ll kill you!”

“Percy, it’s me!” A tall figure knelt in front of him. “It’s me! Frank! Remember? You’re like my best friend!”

Percy blinked back the tears he hadn’t realized had formed in his eyes. “... Frank?”

Frank extended his hand, taking Percy’s arm gently. “Yeah. It’s me. I’m sorry for surprising you, but you looked like you were gonna puke. You need the infirmary, man? You’re not too far away. Are you sick?”

Percy closed his eyes. He wanted a hug, but he didn’t know how to ask for one. “... I… I… I don’t… don’t take me to the hospital. I’m okay.”

“You sure? When I saw you you were, like, rocking back and forth and gagging,” Frank fretted. “I thought you were gonna puke on yourself.”

Percy shook his head. “Nah, man, I… I’m sorry. I was just… I had a… I had a spell of… My stomach started hurting real bad all of the sudden. I’m fine now.” His voice was shaking.

Frank wrinkled his eyebrows. “Did you eat something weird?”

Percy thought of how easily he could lie. He could say he’d eaten some bad nacho cheese and Frank would nod and leave. But there was some part of him that wanted Frank there. There was some part of him that wanted to hear that it was okay, even if it wasn’t real. “... No.”

“... Oh. You’re not drunk, are you?” Frank asked. “You don’t sound drunk.”

Percy’s hands tensed, clenching into fists on their own accord. “I don’t drink.”

“Didn’t think you did,” Frank murmured. Frank studied Percy for a long time. His eyes were wild and red. His hair was messy. He almost looked sprawled, leaning half sitting up and half lying down. His shirt was unbuttoned and his tie was undone. He was missing a shoe. “... How about this. We find your shoe and we go back to my place for a few minutes. I have a couch you can sleep on for a few minutes while you feel better, okay?”

“Find my--oh.” Percy looked down dazedly. “Where the fuck is my other shoe?”

Frank looked around. He grabbed a beaten up old dress shoe off the ground nearby. “Is this it?”

Percy nodded. He put the shoe on and tied it, his fingers visibly shaking. Percy stared at his feet for a few minutes, taking in the scuffs on the abused old dress shoes. His mom had bought them for him for his senior prom. He tried to remember what Annabeth’s shoes had looked like but couldn’t remember more than a vague memory of a pair of blue nylon stockings. _Not helpful._ “... Thanks, man.”

Frank nodded. “‘Course. I’m only doing drunk tank duty right now, so it’s cool.” They stood up and left the alley.

“Hazel’s not doing drunk duty, is she?” 

“Yeah, we both are. Why?”

Percy visibly recoiled. “Poseidon’s undies, get her out of there. She’s gonna get raped.”

“She is _not_ going to get raped,” Frank insisted. “She’s helping in the infirmary. She’s not out on the streets. I’m running around in these dark alleys so she doesn’t have to. I wouldn’t…” Frank chuckled nervously. “I wouldn’t put her out here. Not on New Year’s. Not when everybody is drunk and crazy.”

Percy breathed a sigh of relief. “... Yeah. You…” Percy stumbled at the entrance of the alley, half-tripping. Frank caught his arm and he stood, weakly, looking dazedly out at the drunk partygoers. “... You’re a good man.”

Frank studied Percy. The expression on Percy’s face reminded him of when they were surrounded in battle together, his eyes dark and sharp, his pupils flicking back and forth over the crowd. “... Thanks.” He took a breath, leaning in. “Hey, it’s… it’s all right. Come on. We’re not in battle anymore. It’s good.”

Percy nodded speechlessly. He turned away, not letting Frank see his face. 

Frank kept his hand on his arm, leading him as quickly as possible through the streets. Frank grabbed Riptide out of Terminus’s bucket before Terminus could even say anything, pushing it into Percy’s hand. Frank watched as Percy gripped it, so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Come on,” Frank murmured. “Let’s go. It’s okay.”

Percy nodded and stumbled on, letting Frank take the lead once more. It was only another moment before they were at Frank’s cabin. Frank led him inside and sat him down on his couch. Percy sat dazedly on the edge, leaning his head in his hands, closing his eyes. He wanted to curl up, his eyelids felt like lead, but he didn’t want to dirty up Frank’s couch with his shoes. 

He felt the couch dip as Frank sat next to him. “... It’s too much noise for you, isn’t it? All the shouting reminds you of battle, doesn’t it?”

Percy didn’t have it in him to tell Frank the full truth. He nodded weakly. 

Frank was quiet for a while. “... Well, it’s nice and quiet here. And you can stay as long as you want. Where’s Annabeth? I should tell her you’re here.”

“... She… oh, gods.” Percy rubbed the bridge of his nose. “... She went back to our apartment. Said her shoes were hurting her and she wanted to get new ones. She’s been gone for an hour or two so I think it’s fair to assume she got distracted by something or other.”

“That’s a fair assumption,” Frank reasoned. “Do you think she’ll come here? If you don’t come home?”

Percy nodded. “In an insane screaming panic, yes, she will come here.”

“Oof,” Frank chuckled. “Well… I hope she comes here _before_ she freaks out.” 

“Me too.”

“But she doesn’t seem like the type who gets fully overcome by emotion, so I think we might be good,” Frank nodded sagely.

“You don’t know her as well as I do,” Percy moped. 

“... Well, I’m still allowed to _hope_ for the best, aren’t I?” 

Percy nodded. “Whatever makes you feel less like throwing yourself off of the Empire State.”

Frank managed an uneasy chuckle. 

There was a pause before Percy said “... Who else is doing drunk duty with you?”

“Some of the men of the Fifth Legion are doing the streets. I put the biggest guys I had on street duty. I didn’t want… I don’t want to deal with any sexual assault incidents. That’s how I wound up out there.”

Percy nodded. “Smart.”

“Why do you ask?”

Percy was silent for a long time. Finally, he mumbled “... don’t want to be alone.”

“You want me to stay here with you?”

Percy managed a tiny nod. 

Frank patted his back. “Alright, man. Don’t worry. I’m here. I don’t have to leave if you don’t want me to. Perks of making the rules is that you also make the exceptions to said rules.”

“True dat,” Percy responded.

There was another long pause. Percy thought about the moments he’d spent curled up in that alley, his thoughts racing, his stomach beyond his control. He twisted his hands in his hair, fighting the stress. _He’s gonna beat my ass. I can already feel the sting of the belt buckle. I’m gonna get beat. This is all a hallucination and I’m gonna get beat. I made all of this up to distract myself from the daily beatings and failure. Frank’s not real. Annabeth’s not real. Is Mama even real? Oh, gods, Mama. Where are you? You have such pretty blue eyes. Don’t cry, Mama. I can’t see your pretty eyes when you cry. Your face swells too badly. Help me cover the bruises, Mama. I don’t want the other kids to see._

“... Percy?”

Frank’s voice cut through his thoughts like a butterknife. “... What?”

“... You’re all right, man.” Frank’s voice was quiet and gentle. “You’re not in battle anymore. You’re safe now, man. It’s all good.”

Percy snapped his head up, staring at Frank. His eyes were wild. “Is any of this real?”

“Eh?”

“Is any of this real?” Percy gestured wildly around him. “This cabin? This camp? This party? Annabeth? _You?_ Am I really here?” He grabbed Frank by the shoulders and shook him. “Godsdammit, Zhang, where am I?”

Frank took a deep breath. “... Well, I believe that I’m real. I believe that Annabeth is real, too. I’ve seen her and touched her, and it’s rare that two people would hallucinate the same being. I’ve seen the cabin and the camp and everything. Percy, this is real. You’re not making any of this up.” He put his hands on Percy’s shoulders. “It’s all right.”

A sob broke from Percy’s throat. “... It’s all in my head. You’re all in my head. I couldn’t deal with having my ass beat anymore so I hallucinated up a fantasy world where… where I was all powerful and untouchable. None of this is real.” He put his head down, gasping and sobbing. “... None of this is real.”

“... Who was beating you?” Frank asked. “This feels like need-to-know info.”

“... You know.”

“I do not.”

“... I…” Percy sniffled. “... I…” His head was spinning. “... My mother… was in a really bad relationship a while back,” he mumbled. 

_Oh. Shit._ “... I’m sorry,” Frank murmured. “And did he hurt you?”

“... I can’t…”

“Just nod your head yes or shake your head no. I swear on the Styx I won’t react badly to either answer.”

Percy clenched his hands on Frank’s shoulders, so tightly Frank was worried his fingers would leave bruises. Finally, he gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

 _Oh shit. Oh fuck. That’s why he was going off the rails. It wasn’t the battle at all. And if it was, that wasn’t the main factor. Fucking hell. Who would do that to him? He’s such a good guy. Why would anyone want to do him harm?_ “... I’m sorry,” Frank managed again. “May I… may I give you a hug?”

Percy flopped bonelessly against Frank’s chest. Frank took hold of the back of his shirt, stabilizing him, keeping him from falling. Percy leaned his head into Frank’s shoulder, limply. Frank could feel cool drops hitting his shoulder. “... Hey, man,” Frank soothed. “I’ve got you. You’re all right, man. No one’s gonna hurt you. You’re safe. You’re good.”

Percy gave a hiccuping sob. “... Hurts.”

“... I know,” Frank murmured. “I know. But you’re safe now. You’ve gotta take my word for it, man. You’re safe now.”

Percy didn’t respond. His sobbing body heaved and shook. Frank gently moved Percy so he was more flush against his chest and unclenched his hands from his clothes. He rubbed soothing circles over his spine, rocking him back and forth slightly. He could feel the bones of Percy’s spine through his shirt. 

Percy felt the voices in his head suddenly quiet as Frank held him, leaving a dull ring in his ears. Frank’s voice echoed in his head, _you’re safe, you’re safe. Take my word for it, you’re safe._ He was suddenly overwhelmed by an intense feeling of safety and release, Frank’s shoulder was soft as a pillow and he was okay. Sobs escaped his mouth, he couldn’t control them. He was shaking badly, so badly, he was limp and pained and everything hurt but Frank was warm and it was _okay._ “... Thanks,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome,” Frank soothed. “... Who else knows about… these spells?”

“My man. Grover Underwood,” Percy gasped. “I’ve seen my mother get antsy around the drunk as well, so I think she has them too. And… Annabeth knows that I was beat as a kid but I don’t think she knows the flashbacks are as bad as they are. I mean, I live with her. I couldn’t hide the real reason I don’t drink from her forever. And Meg might know something too. I don't remember how much I told her.”

Frank nodded. “... I’m glad it’s not just a total secret. I think that’s… I think that’s a really heavy thing to hold in your heart on your own. I mean, my mom and grandma never beat me, so I wouldn’t know, but…”

“No, you’re right. It is heavy.” Percy gasped. He heaved a breath. “It’s really heavy. It’s so heavy and I don’t know how to put it down. I don’t.”

“... I’ll share the burden,” Frank murmured. “I’ll do my best, anyway.”

Percy squeezed Frank tightly, so tightly his ribs ached. “... You’re a good friend, Frank. Maybe one of the best ones I’ve ever had.”

Frank laughed, a soothing chuckle that sent rumbles through Percy’s body. “Thanks, man. You’re my best friend as well.”

Percy took a deep breath, trying to calm his heaving chest. Frank was warm, it made him want to sleep. “... Thanks, man.”

Frank rocked him back and forth for a few more minutes before Percy pulled away, wiping his eyes. Frank couldn’t help but notice how painfully red his eyes were. “... Do you want to sleep here tonight? My offer to tell Annabeth about what’s happening still stands.”

Percy yawned. “... Yeah. Please tell her what’s going on. I don’t want her… I don’t want her to freak.”

Frank nodded and stood up. “Will do. You try and rest, okay? Just stay here, it’s nice and quiet and you won’t have any spells.”

Percy lay down, curling up and burying his face in the pillow. “... Okay. Thanks, man, you’re the best.”

Frank chuckled. He pulled a throw blanket off of the back of the couch and draped it over Percy’s shoulders. “Don’t mention it. It’s my pleasure. I’ll see you later.”

Percy nodded. “... See you later, man.”

  
  
  


Percy was asleep when Frank returned, Annabeth in tow. Annabeth knelt next to Percy. “And you said _what_ happened?”

“He had some kind of spell. His bad memories overwhelmed him,” Frank explained. 

_At a party? Surrounded by… oh,_ shit. _I never should have left him alone._ “... Makes sense. He had… he’s been through some shit. I think he got set off by being around all the yelling and alcohol. I think… I think you were right to bring him back here.”

Frank nodded. “Yeah. He basically cried himself out and fell asleep.”

“Cried? He was crying in front of you? Gods, he really must have been out of it.” Annabeth shook her head. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, stroking his hair. “Well, good job getting him calmed down at least. That’s an accomplishment.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Frank murmured, sitting next to her. 

“Yeah. I… I’ve seen him have these sort of weird trauma spells before. They don’t happen often, at least not to the severity that this one appears to have been.” Annabeth shook her head. “He normally deals with it pretty well.”

“I think it might have been exacerbated by the fact that you weren’t around,” Frank reasoned. “I think you’re a calming factor for him. I think you bring him back to reality a little.”

Annabeth nodded, stroking his hair, soft as silk. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t mutual. I feel a little off when he’s not around too.”

Frank nodded. “No, you guys are really good for each other. I think you two kind of need each other. I noticed that Percy got a lot happier when you and he were reunited.”

Annabeth nodded. “No, I did too. Percy gets stressed without me and I get depressed without him. It’s vicious.” She kissed his lips and he smiled slightly in his sleep. 

“Well then, I’m glad you have each other,” Frank agreed. 

Annabeth nodded, smiling. Then she yawned. “Oh, fuck, what time is it? I’m so tired.”

“It’s like two AM. I… I don’t have… I mean, do you want to cram onto the couch with Percy?” Frank asked. 

Annabeth nodded. She slipped behind Percy on the couch, holding him, burying her face in his shoulder. She kissed his neck. 

Frank rolled his eyes. “Well, I’ve gotta go check on my drunk tank guys. No intercourse on my sofa.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Annabeth replied. 

“Every drop of juices you get on my couch is a ten denarii fine for property destruction.”

“Fuck you too,” Annabeth mumbled, clearly already half-asleep.

Frank shook his head, not even bothering to reply. _Well, at least they have each other. That’s the important thing, right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I graduated high school yesterday. Obviously there's not gonna be any big ceremony but it's still pretty cool. I'm happy.
> 
> Also, I'm just gonna write about Frank any time someone says anything bad about my drabbles. Frank's super unoffensive.


	87. Non-shippy (implied Blitzstone)- Finally Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scene where Hearth and Blitz see Mimir about Hearth learning magic. Rick never wrote it out, but I did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of fairly severe emotional abuse of a child and what can only be described as disability shaming.  
> Also, this is probably hilariously inaccurate in comparison to the canon, but I still wanted to write it.

“And why did you summon me, dwarf?” Mimir’s head bobbed awkwardly in the small pond that Blitz had thrown it in. “The _real_ reason, please.”

Blitz huffed. “Can you give my friend the gift of hearing?” He gestured to Hearth. “He’s been deaf since birth, his family didn’t want him for it… it was all really terrible.”

Mimir stared at Hearth for as long as he could before the ripples of the pond sent him bobbing off at an awkward angle. “... Your friend wants to learn magic, doesn’t he?”

Hearth nodded. _I do,_ he signed. 

Mimir stared at him for almost a full minute before speaking again. “You have a choice to make, elf.”

Hearth’s heart sunk. _What?_

“I can restore your hearing. Send you back to Alfheim. You will be able to live a reasonably normal life. You will be a contributing citizen and you will be happy.” Mimir paused. “Or you can learn magic.”

_So what? I stay broken and fucked up forever and get mad powers or I’m a real and good elf and don’t? What kind of choice is that?_

“A perfectly good one,” Mimir responded. “Don’t get uppity with me. No one likes an uppity elf. So, what’s your answer? Normalcy, acceptance, and happiness? Or having your wildest dream fulfilled?”

Hearth was silent. He felt his face heat up. He remembered the way his father looked at him and pictured acceptance on his face, happiness. He remembered his first day or so with Blitz, the look on his face when he had told him he wasn’t able to hear a thing he said. He could still picture the small notebook they had used to communicate in their first few weeks of living together. He could still remember how shocked he’d been when Blitz had been kind to him, had treated him well. He tried to picture _everyone_ treating him well and found himself unable.

His eyes stung. He’d wanted to learn magic since he was a little kid. _Could I even deal with losing that dream forever? It was all I’ve had. Through half of my life, that dream was all I had._ The thought of not ever having that dream again, never having that one little thing to hold on to, crushed in his chest. 

Blitz tugged his jacket. He looked up, wiping the forming tears from his eyes. Blitz pointed to Mimir. 

“So?” Mimir asked. “Are you going to make a choice? I can choose to give you neither if you don’t respond.”

He took a deep breath. _… Magic,_ he signed, tears welling in his eyes as he made the gestures. His hands were shaking so badly he was shocked his signs were visible. _Magic. I want to learn magic._

“As you wish,” Mimir nodded. A thin glow surrounded Hearth’s fingertips. “There you go. May your suffering be your strength.” With that, the light faded from his eyes, and he returned to being a lifeless floating head.

 _How?_ Hearth thought bitterly. He shoved his hands down into his pockets and stared down at the small stones surrounding the pond. 

Blitz returned the head of Mimir to its bag and tugged on Hearth’s sleeve. _Come on,_ he signed. _There’s no use in us staying here. We should go. Besides, it’s getting close to nighttime, and you know how dark Nidavellir nights get._

Hearth let Blitz lead him through the night. He couldn’t stop thinking about what could have been. He remembered the look on his father’s face, that perpetual contempt. _Never good enough. Never enough. Never gonna be loved by your father. Never deserving of your father’s love. Never deserving of anyone’s love. Never enough. Magic doesn’t make anyone love you. As per usual, you made the wrong decision. You chose to be a burden. You chose not to be enough. This is all your fault. You moronic, broken, disabled freak._

Hearth didn’t even realize that tears were pouring down his cheeks until Blitz pulled him into an alley, helping him into a sitting position. _Hey, man, it’s okay,_ Blitz signed, sitting in front of him, legs tangled together. _You’re all right. I’ve got you. It’s good._

Hearth could barely see his fingers through the thick haze of tears in his eyes. He leaned his head into Blitz’s shoulder, tears running into Blitz’s coat. He crossed his arms against his chest, shivering, he was cold. He was so cold. _Never enough._

Blitz pulled Hearth closer. “... It’s okay, buddy,” he murmured. _Why am I saying this? He can’t hear me._ “... It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Hearth made a small squeak deep in his throat. He felt Blitz’s voice, the soft vibrations in his chest. He forced his arms to move, to return the hug. He was stiff, so stiff, he could barely move. Silent sobs broke from his throat. He couldn’t pull away long enough to read Blitz’s lips or respond. _Why does he care so much for you? Why? Why would anyone care for you?_

Too soon, Blitz released his hold. He moved his hands to cup Hearth’s cheeks, to wipe his eyes. “... You’re okay,” he said. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

Hearth tried to focus only on the soft trace of Blitz’s stubby fingers over his cheeks. Anything else was just too painful. He raised his hands, trembling, shaking badly. _… Blitz, I… I... thank you. Thank you._ He shook his head, touching Blitz’s hands. _I made the wrong decision, but at least I still have you. Thank you so much._

 _It’s my pleasure,_ Blitz responded. _Now come on. Let’s get you back to the apartment. It’s not good for you to sit in this crappy little alley and cry. You need to be warm when you’re sad, and it’s gonna get cold._

Hearth nodded silently. 

Blitz stood up and extended a hand to Hearth. Hearth took it, clinging to it. The absence of Blitz’s body left a great coldness in Hearth. His legs felt like the legs of a stuffed doll, he was shaking. He was sure that if Blitz wasn’t holding his hand, gently leading him along, then he would have collapsed into a useless heap of broken, worthless elf. _Worthless elf. Bad elf. Never enough._

Blitz led him up into his little apartment, sitting him down on his sun bed. _All right,_ he signed. _Here, let me turn this on for you._ He clicked it on. _Nice and warm, right?_

Hearth curled up in the fetal position, closing his eyes. The warmth of the sun lamp heated his skin. It made him feel warm and secure in ways that were hard to explain. _… Yeah. ...Thanks, Blitz. I love you._

Blitz snorted. _Love you too, dude,_ he signed, despite the fact that Hearth’s eyes were closed. _Sappy-ass elf. I’m just glad he’s feeling a little better._ Blitz sat down on the edge of Hearth’s bed, giving his shoulder a pat. _What kind of fucking choice is that? Come on, man, you know he’s sensitive about his disability. Asshole._

Hearth opened his eyes slightly. _What?_

_What, what?_

_You patted my shoulder._

_Just as a comfort thing,_ Blitz reassured. _You’re upset._

 _Why do you want to help me?_ Hearth gestured suddenly. _Why did you ever? I’m broken and fucked up-- why do you care about me?_

Blitz was quiet for a long time. He patted Hearth’s shoulder again. _Because you’re my friend. My_ only _friend. And… when I saw you for the first time, you looked so… you were gonna die. If no one helped you, you were going to die. I could see that. And I… I couldn’t have lived with myself if I had just left you there. I would have thought about it for the rest of my life. So I did what I had to do to put my soul at peace. And that was help you._

Hearth sniffled. _… You’re a very good person. Maybe a little too good. I still don’t understand why you keep me around, but thank you._

 _Oh, shut up,_ Blitz signed, huffing. _You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I keep you around because I like you. Don’t get all mopey and hopeless over someone who never wanted you--and yes, I know you’re moping about your dad. If he wouldn’t give you a chance before, he doesn’t deserve to get the chance to give you another. You’re my friend, deaf or hearing or in whatever state. And now you’re gonna be able to fulfill your lifelong dream. I literally couldn’t be happier for you. Don’t cry. Just relax. We have each other. It’s okay._

Hearth watched Blitz sign through thick pouring tears. _… He’s my father. I guess… I guess there’s some part of me that still wants… that still wishes he loved me._ Hearth wiped his eyes. _But I still… it doesn’t decrease my care for you, or my happiness at being able to fulfill my lifelong dream. I guess I am happy on some level. I just..._

 _It all comes back to you sometimes, doesn’t it?_ Blitz looked down. 

Hearth nodded.

_Understandable. Yeah, I get it sometimes as well._

Hearth didn’t have to ask what Blitz was talking about. _… Thank you for being there for me. I… I really appreciate it. I don’t know how I’m going to repay you for all that you do for me._

Blitz turned to him, flashing a smile. _Don’t worry about it. You’re my friend. That’s all the payback I need._

Hearth leaned his head against Blitz’s thigh. _… You’re too nice._

Hearth saw Blitz’s mouth curve into a wide smile, he tossed his head back. He was laughing. _Am not,_ Blitz insisted. _Quit flattering me._

 _Wasn’t trying to,_ Hearth gestured. 

Blitz patted his head. _You’re too nice yourself. Staying with a dwarf. I thought elves thought we were all shitty and dirty._

Hearth sniffled. _Elves think everyone who isn’t them is shitty and dirty. The them referring to the individual elf. Really, it’s a miracle we ever manage to mate._

Blitz sighed. _… Well, I’m glad you’re different. Thank you for being different._

Hearth rested his head fully on Blitz’s lap, looking up into his eyes, studying the little crow’s lines at the corners. _… That’s why I love you, I think._

_Because I like the fact that you’re a little different?_

_… Yeah._

Blitz nodded. He pet Hearth’s hair, as gently as possible. Hearth closed his eyes, relaxing into the touch, the feeling of Blitz’s stubby fingers through his hair. He tried to forget the horrible image of his father’s face in his mind, the rage. _Brother-killer,_ he’d said. _You killed him. Don’t think I’m too stupid to know what you did._

Blitz removed his hand. _Stop thinking about him._

Hearth blinked. Tears ran down his temples. _… I’m sorry._

 _Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. You’re the abused one here._ Blitz wiped his tears with gentle fingers.

Hearth held his hand to his cheek for one or two seconds before releasing it. _… Thanks._

 _No problem, man. Just rest._ Blitz returned to petting Hearth’s hair, gently. Hearth’s eyes fell closed once more. Hearth’s head devolved into a state of quiet spinning, the voice in his head faded, the movement of his father’s lips as he said those horrid things vanished. Hearth kept an image in his mind of Blitz’s smile, his lips turned up. He took a breath. Blitz smelled like clean laundry and cinnamon sugar. Hearth was suddenly overwhelmed by an intense feeling of love, he wanted to be held by Blitz forever. He would have given anything to lie like this forever, safe from grief and pain and abuse, with Blitz’s fingers through his hair. 

It wasn’t long before Hearth drifted off to sleep, finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so fucking lost right now


	88. Caleo- I'm Sorry I'm Not Your Big Tiddy Goth GF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo forgets to clear his browsing history. Calypso is pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a few years post-TOA. Leo and Calypso are in college (or at least Leo is) and are living in an apartment near the Waystation. 
> 
> Warnings for mentions of sex and porn. Probably one of the stupidest, memey-est things on this doc, honestly. Right after "Hermes Gave Me An HJ".

“Am I not good enough for you?” Calypso sniffled, holding one of Leo’s devices in her hand. 

Leo recognized it as a small device he’d made to allow him Internet access. It was officially for college, but Leo would be lying if he said that was all he used it for. “You’re more than good enough for me. Why would you ask that?”

“You know what I found on this? All the pictures?” Calypso snipped. She flopped down on her side of the bed, looking away from him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be your ‘big tiddy goth GF,’ Valdez.”

_ Oh, shit.  _ “Cal, I… seriously, it doesn’t have anything to do with you. Plenty of guys… plenty of guys browse that sort of material. Regardless of whether or not they’re in a relationship. It doesn’t affect our relationship any.” Leo gave her a reassuring pat on the back.

“Yes it does! You’re saying you don’t want to have intercourse with me because you’d rather crank it out to your stupid anime girls!” Calypso sniffled. 

Leo looked up at the ceiling. “... Cal, that… that’s not true. I still want to have sex with you. Just because I look at porn doesn’t mean that I don’t value your abilities in bed.”

Calypso was silent. “... What does it mean, then? That you don’t care enough about me to bother?”

“No, it means that I get horny when you’re not here,” Leo snorted. “It’s easier to crank one out then to wait for you to come home and then try and beg some succ out of you when you’re all tired and headachey.”

Calypso was quiet for a long time. Leo could hear her sniffling. “... I hate it when you’re right,” she grumbled. “Stop being so fucking considerate.”

Leo leaned over and kissed the back of her neck. “Considerate is my middle name,  _ mamacita.  _ I’m all about bringing that happiness and pleasure.”

“I will  _ pay  _ you to shut up,” Calypso groaned. 

“Aww, but then you’ll miss my words of wisdom!”

Calypso sighed. She didn’t say anything more. 

Leo rolled over and slung his arm around her hip. “Are you still pissed at me?”

“Yes,” Calypso grumbled. “Yes, I am.”

Leo pouted. “See, this is why I look at porn. I don’t want to try and phenangle it out of you when you’re pissed off.”

Calypso was silent. “... That’s fair. I guess.”

Leo squoze her. “Thanks,  _ mamacita.” _

“... But I still don’t know how I feel about what I found on your Sphere of Awesomeness or whatever you call it.”

“It’s a  _ Valdezaphone,”  _ Leo insisted. “And I’m sorry, but at least be happy it wasn’t guy-on-guy.”

Calypso snorted. “If it were guy-on-guy,  _ I’d  _ be into it.”

Leo blushed. “... Oh. See, I didn’t get pissed about  _ that,  _ and  _ that  _ was…”

Calypso rolled over, pinching him. “Oh, shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason updates have been slightly less frequent is because all of my ideas have either been smutty or stupid, and I'm trying to keep this doc non-smutty.


	89. Non-shippy- No Title

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has an episode while in the forest. Turns out, it's not a good idea for a traumatized young man to revisit an area where he saw his brother get his head bashed in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for gore, vomit and panic attacks.

Will couldn’t breathe. 

His chest was so tight. He was trembling. The forest was calm and quiet, but Will couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see anything but bodies. Bodies were all over the floor of the forest. Lee Fletcher was lying before him. His head was gone. Gone and blood was dribbling out of the stump of his neck. And he had taken the blow for him. It was all Will’s fault. He’d died and it was Will’s fault. 

Will gagged slightly. He wanted to puke. He wanted to curl up in the soft dirt and puke. He closed his eyes, but the bodies didn’t fade. There was a lone fly buzzing around the feckless, ruined stump of Lee’s head. Drinking his blood. Laying its fetid eggs in his flesh. Oh, gods, Will was going to puke. Lightheadedness consumed him. His ears rung. His face felt hot, but he couldn’t stop trembling. He was surrounded by flies. He stank like the dead. He was covered in blood. He was covered in wounds and they were rotting, stinking, there were white worms crawling in the rot on his body and… 

Vomit poured from his mouth. He grabbed a clump of grass for support as his stomach heaved. His head was spinning so badly that he could barely feel the sticky liquid dribbling down his chin. _I’m going to die. I’m going to die here. There are so many ghosts here. I’m gonna be one of them._ Will gave a weak cry as the bile burned at his throat. _Where’s Cecil? Where’s Lou Ellen? Where’s Nico? Where’s anybody? Please, somebody, help, I… I…_

He moaned weakly as his stomach finally emptied. He closed his eyes, keeping his head hung. He heaved a breath, gasping, he couldn’t stop gasping. It was so hard to breathe. He only wanted to sleep, but he couldn’t rest. Not here. Not surrounded by ghosts. He took a deep breath and held it, his chest trembling. His feeble attempt at soothing himself gave out almost immediately. He gasped and wept. “Ple-ease… oh, gods… somebody… I’m gonna…” _Bodies. So many bodies. So much death. I’m gonna die too. They’re eating me. The worms are eating me. Please, please, I need help, please, I’m not dead yet…_

He felt a soft touch on his back. “Son,” a gentle voice murmured. 

Will raised his head. Apollo was kneeling before him. “What the hell do you want?” 

Apollo raised his eyebrows. Will’s voice was so rough. “You begged for help, yes?”

“And since when do _you_ give a shit?” Tears trickled down Will’s cheeks. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve begged for help before? You didn’t care then, why should you care now?”

Apollo extended his hand, patting Will’s knee. “... I’m sorry for my past transgressions. I want… I want to help you. You are suffering greatly, yes?”

Will was quiet. Apollo saw tears run down his cheeks. “... Yes.”

“Will you allow me to help you?”

Will hiccuped. He bowed his head once more. _Bodies. So many bodies. So many flies. So much rot. Oh, gods, why have you deserted us?_ “... Please… at least… help me get back to camp. Back to Nico and Cecil and Lou Ellen and… and…”

Apollo nodded. “... Will you let me wipe your face? It’s very dirty.”

Will nodded dizzily. Apollo extended one hand, gently wiping his mouth with a tissue. Will couldn’t help but lean into the touch. His hand was warm and gentle. “... Thanks,” he mumbled. 

Apollo nodded. “You’re welcome. May I… hug you?”

Will sniffled. “I… I… _please,”_ he exhaled, almost sobbing.

Apollo pulled him close. Will pressed his face into Apollo’s shoulder. Apollo was struck by Will’s _helplessness._ He snuggled in easily, wanting, soft in a way that Apollo didn’t often feel. Apollo cradled him like a child, wrapping his arm around Will’s waist, gently carding his other hand through Will’s soft curls. Will was trembling, his chest was heaving. Even with all of his godly wisdom, Apollo couldn’t tell if it was more from hyperventilation or tears. “... I’m sorry,” Apollo murmured. “You’re in so much pain, beautiful boy. I’m sorry.”

Will didn’t respond. He slowly sat up, wrapping his arms around Apollo’s chest, balling his hands in his shirt. Apollo’s arms felt sturdy, secure. The screams in Will’s head, the smell of rot, the sight of the blood and the bodies all faded at the gentle trace of Apollo’s fingers over his scalp. “... Thanks,” Will mumbled. “I… I need this.”

Apollo raised his face out of his shoulder with a gentle hand. Will’s face was red, his eyes were glassy. Apollo gave his forehead a gentle kiss. “Of course.”

Will nodded. Apollo kissed both of his cheeks, the taste of salt filling his mouth as he did so. “Oh, my poor baby,” Apollo cooed. “You’ve been crying so hard.”

Will took a breath, feeling his skin tingle warmly where Apollo’s lips had been. “... Yeah,” he murmured. “Please… please don’t let go just yet.” _I need you, I always have, and for once you actually came, please don’t let go, please…_

Apollo took a deep breath. “Of course,” he murmured. “I’ll stay here for as long as you need.”

“... Thanks,” Will whispered, squeezing Apollo tightly. 

Apollo squeezed him in return. “It’s no problem, baby.”

Will melted into Apollo’s hug as Apollo tendered fingers over his cheek, through his hair. He closed his eyes, trying not to think of bodies, of blood. His thoughts moved like honey, it was almost as if his mind was too tired from all the panic to think quickly or properly. He was exhausted, he wanted only to sleep. It didn’t help that Apollo’s shoulder was comfortable, or that he seemed to fit perfectly in his arms, almost as if Apollo had shaped his form to be most comfortable for him. Warm gratitude filled his chest. Why had he not wanted this again? This was so good. It was so good to be snuggled in Apollo’s arms, drinking in his warmth, his tenderness. 

Apollo watched as Will’s eyes fell closed, slowly. His soft pink lips hung open, slightly, a slight shine of drool slicked on his lips. “My son? Are you still awake?”

“... Tired,” Will mumbled. “So tired.”

“... I’d bet,” Apollo murmured. “Do you want to go home? We can get you all safe and curled up in your bed. It’ll be nice and warm.”

Will nodded. “... That sounds nice. To sleep.” 

Apollo nodded. “Let’s go.” He stood up, gently pulling him into a standing position, his arm snugly around his hip. 

“I don’t want nightmares,” Will mumbled.

“No, of course not,” Apollo replied, gently beginning to lead Will back in the direction of camp. “Don’t worry, son. I’ll put in a word for you with Morpheus.”

Will nodded. 

It was only another minute before they were back in the Apollo cabin. Apollo lay Will down in his bed, wrapping his blankets around his shoulders. Will relaxed into his bed, his familiar soft bed. “... Thanks. I don’t know why you came through for me, but thanks.”

“Because you’re my son. And I love you.” Apollo kissed his cheek. “Sleep well, my babe. I’ll see you later.”

“... See you later, Dad,” Will mumbled half into his pillow, his mind drifting into happy thoughts as he fell into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These have been getting kind of hard to write, not from an emotional standpoint, but just in that the words won't come as easily. I really hope that'll change.


	90. Referenced Solangelo, Percabeth- Percy Needs Hugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico finds Percy on the roof of their apartment building in New Rome. Percy insists he's only up there to think. As it turns out, this isn't quite true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for suicidal thoughts and Percy thinking, in-depth, of what would happen if he were to commit suicide by jumping from a great height.
> 
> I don't know why I like suicidal!Percy so much. I just do.

“What are you doing up here?”

Percy only barely heard the voice behind him. He turned. Nico stood behind him on the roof of the apartment building, his hair fluttering in the breeze, his trenchcoat swaying around his legs. “What do you want, di Angelo?”

Nico shrugged. He flopped down a few feet from Percy, hanging his legs over the side of the roof. He looked down.  _ It’s such a long drop.  _ “I dunno, Jackson. You’ve been up here for three hours and I was wondering why.”

Percy’s stomach turned. “... I came up here to think. That’s all. I’m fine.”

Nico raised his eyebrows, giving Percy a piercing side-eye. “Well, if you say so.” He twisted his ring around his finger. “Truth be told, Will wanted me to come up and make sure you were okay.”

“He was worried?” Percy asked, looking down off the roof. He imagined feeling the wind whip around him as he fell, his stomach hurtling into his throat. He wondered how much of the impact with the ground he would feel. He wondered if he would scream, if he would feel terror, that raw, open terror of being entirely at the mercy of an outside force.

“Yeah,” Nico responded. “I told him you were good, but…” Nico shrugged. “He didn’t want to hear it. You know how he is. Stubborn as a mule.”

“I mean, that stubbornness saved all of our asses multiple times, so…” Percy sighed out, feeling the cool wind tousle through his hair, over his neck. 

Nico drew his coat tightly around himself. “I guess so.”

There was a long pause. “... It’s a hell of a drop,” Nico managed weakly. “Six stories and all.”

“True,” Percy shrugged. “I mean, I’m a Manhattan boy, so this isn’t that tall to me, but it’s a hell of a way to fall.”

Nico nodded. 

Percy looked down. The asphalt was even and paved perfectly. Percy wondered if the impact of his body would even make a dent, or if they would just Squeegee him up and be done with it. “... Hey, di Angelo.”

Nico sighed. “What?”

“You ever just want to jump?”

“Like off the roof?” Nico asked incredulously.

“Yeah.” 

“... Can’t say I ever have,” Nico answered finally. “If… I mean, if I die, I just want to be stabbed through the heart and die instantly. I don’t want to have any time to think about it, even if that time is a second or less of fall time.”

“Wait,  _ if  _ you die?”

“Damn. I mean when.” Nico gave a snort. 

“Alright, good. I didn’t know if there was something you weren’t telling me,” Percy chuckled. “I’d hate to find out that you were suddenly immortal or something.”

Nico shrugged. “Nah. I’m as killable as any other demigod.” 

Percy nodded. 

There was a long silence. “... Do you ever wish you were dead?” Percy blurted.

Nico shrugged. “... Occasionally. Then I remind myself that it would mean an eternity by my father’s side and suddenly I feel a bit more positive about being alive. Do  _ you  _ wish you were dead?”

Percy shrugged. “Sometimes.” He paused. “... More like constantly.”

Nico gave him a long look. “... Well, with your rep, it would be somewhat anticlimactic, wouldn’t it? To die by your own hand?”

Percy looked down. “... After everything I’ve done, I may deserve it.”

Nico didn’t respond for a long time. “... I don’t believe you deserve death.”

“Really? I thought you hated me!” Percy snorted. 

“... For about six months or so after Bianca’s death, yes, I did hate you. And I did want you dead. But after that? No, I didn’t hate you. In fact, I…” Nico sighed. “... I liked you a good bit. You cared for me when almost no one else did. Or you seemed to, anyway. You spoke to me. And… I always wanted… I always wanted to impress you, I think, but I don’t think I ever did.” Nico laughed bitterly. “I was never more than a grub to you, I think.”

Percy was quiet. “... I’m sorry. I was too short with you, wasn’t I?”

Nico shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“... Well, I’m still sorry. I… I do care for you. I did want to be your friend. And I kind of fucked it up. I was short with you because I wanted to keep you safe. That’s all. And if you’re upset about the fact that I kept you out of the Battle of Manhattan until you got Hades on our side, we literally couldn’t have done it without you. You saved the day.”

Nico twisted his fingers through his hair. “... Will already told me that.”

Percy nodded. “Glad he did.”

Nico nodded. “... Yeah. Well, I… I don’t hate you. I don’t love you either, not now, at least. But I don’t hate you. And I don’t think you deserve to die.”

Percy was silent for a long time. “... I… I…”

“You?”

“I came up here to… to… to jump,” Percy whispered. 

Nico watched Percy’s face. He was silent, allowing Percy to continue.

“For the third time,” Percy mumbled. “I’ve tried to do it twice before. The first time Annabeth found me before I could do anything. The second Meg caught me before I could fall all the way. And there was another time I tried to put Riptide through my heart, but… it was Will, actually, who found me before I could do anything severe. That was when Annabeth found out. Ever since, she’s hated it when I’ve gone out alone. That’s why I don’t… I don’t tell her when I’m having these thoughts. When I’m feeling like this. Because she’ll freak. And I don’t want that.”

“Of course not,” Nico murmured. “... Does she yell? Scream? How does she freak out?”

Percy was silent for a while. “... She cries. She cries and cries and cries. And it’s these heartbreaking sobs that… that… I mean, it just hurts to hear.”

“... That’s a whole different kind of not helpful,” Nico murmured. “I thought you were gonna say she got super mad.”

“Well, she does. She’ll yell at first and then she starts crying.”

Nico nodded. “Well… I don’t really know what to say to make you feel better. But what I can say is that… is that Will is a comforting presence if… if you really need help. And that boy would do anything for anyone.”

Percy was quiet. “... Thank you so much. I know… I know that sharing him can’t be easy.”

Nico shrugged. “I have to. Will… I’ve noticed that Will kind of  _ needs  _ to help people. He says it’s his purpose. He gets pissed if I try and stop him. It’s one of the few times he gets legitimately angry. So… yes, I’ve learned to share Will. And… I mean, he’s still mine romantically and physically.”

Percy nodded. “That helps.”

“It does.”

Percy was quiet for a while. “... I’m glad you don’t want to die. It’s a terrible feeling when you think you deserve death.”

“It is,” Nico agreed. “It really is. You know, I used to think I deserved to die because I had a crush on you.”

“... I’m sorry,” Percy replied. “... I don’t quite know what to say about that.”

“I mean, it isn’t your problem,” Nico shrugged. “It’s a societal thing, not your fault.”

Percy gave a small smile. “... Thanks, man.”

Nico looked at Percy, some warmth in his big dark eyes. “Welcome.” He nodded. “... Are you feeling a little better?”

Percy closed his eyes. “... Not really. I mean… I… I’m a failure, I’m an asshole and all I ever do is get people killed.”

“That’s a bit extreme,” Nico murmured. “Especially from someone hailed as a hero.”

Nico looked at Percy’s face. A lone tear tracked down his cheek. “... I should have died during Manhattan.”

Nico sighed. “... Here. Don’t cry.” He gave Percy a napkin he had in his pocket. “Wipe your face.”

Percy held the napkin to his eyes. Tears trickled down into the scratchy paper. His chest was so tight, he could barely breathe. His stomach churned, he was sick from the shame. It was only too shameful to cry in front of Nico. “... I’m sorry,” he managed.

“... It’s okay,” Nico murmured. “... Here, why don’t I get Will? He’s much better at these things that I am.”

Percy shrugged. He heard Nico stand up, heard his footsteps echoing into the distance. Percy wiped the tears from his eyes and looked down once again. He wondered if he’d bleed much when he splattered against the concrete. He wondered how messy such a death was, if it was blood and gore for meters or if it was just a lone figure with pale skin and closed eyes. He wondered how Annabeth would react, if she would scream and cry or if she would just be stunned, her face cold as she swayed from shock.

It was a moment before Percy heard someone sit down next to him. He could see a golden blur out of the corner of his eye. “... Hey,” a soft voice rang out.

“... Solace,” Percy replied. “How you doin’?”

“I’m all right.” Will’s voice was soft and agreeable. “So… Nico told me what happened.”

Percy nodded. “I’m aware.”

“... I’m sorry,” Will murmured. “You don’t deserve to be in all that pain.”

“But I do,” Percy sighed. “I… I’m a terrible person.”

Will cocked his head. “Why do you think that?”

“... Because. I… I’m nothing but a weapon. I’ve done so many horrible things. I’ve failed so many people. It would be… it would be so much better for the world if I were to jump off this roof right now and fall to my death. It would just be better for everyone.”

“... What did you do that was so horrible?”

“... Well, I let Nico’s sister die, for one. I couldn’t… I couldn’t protect her. I wanted to so bad, but I couldn’t. Anyway, I… I…” Percy swallowed. “Nico never forgave me. Anyway, I… I… after that, I… I was the one who told Silena to go get Clarisse during Manhattan. She died because of me. And your brother? Michael?”

“You were there,” Will said simply. “You tried to talk him off the bridge, but he wouldn’t go. Kayla was there. She told me everything. Look, I don’t blame you for Michael. Michael was a headstrong bastard. Asshole’s life dream was to die a hero. He got his wish. I’m not mad at you, trust me.”

Percy sniffled. “... Thank you.”

Will patted his shoulder. “Yeah. You couldn’t have known about Michael or Silena. Now, I don’t know what exactly happened in Bianca’s case, but I’m fairly sure you didn’t just leave her to die. I think you have a combination of survivor’s guilt and lingering guilt that Nico put in you.”

Percy gave a small nod.

Will sighed. “... Look, man, we all get survivor’s guilt. Everyone who’s been through battle has survivor’s guilt. You’re not alone. It’s okay. You didn’t do anything  _ wrong,  _ Percy. You just couldn’t save everyone.”

“... Do you ever feel shitty because…”

“Because I couldn’t save someone? All the fucking time! I mean, there are  _ still  _ some people I think about sometimes. People I couldn’t save. And it weighs really heavy. And I don’t want you to have the same.”

Percy cocked his head. “... Why do you care so much? We’re not that close.”

Will shrugged. “‘Cuz I’m a nice guy, that’s why.”

Percy looked down at the sidewalks far below. “... You may be a little too nice.”

“Better to be too nice than the opposite,” Will shrugged. “Anyway, we’re getting off-topic. Don’t blame yourself. You’re not a bad person, or a monster, or a failure, or anything like that. You’re in college, you’re doing just fine and you have a girlfriend and a family that loves you. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else a man could want.”

Percy nodded. “... I know. I just…”

“You feel terrible inside, and you don’t know why?” Will guessed.

“Yeah,” Percy murmured. “And I… I have all these nightmares that… it’s just… it’s really hard to sleep sometimes. I’ve gone days at a time.”

“You’re scared. You’re scared to have nightmares and you’re scared that they might mean more.”

“... Yeah,” Percy whispered.

“Again, that’s something a lot of us suffer from. It’s called Post-”

“-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Yeah, I know. And we all have it. I know.”

Will patted Percy’s back awkwardly. “Yeah, man. I’m glad you’re aware. Anyway, all I wanted to say is… you’re safe. You’re safe here. No one can get you. And as for your family back in Manhattan, they’re all mortal, right? The monsters don’t want to hurt them. They’re perfectly safe.”

Percy nodded. “I just… whenever… I’m so scared now, whenever my friends go on quests or whenever we’re… we’re separated, I’m so scared because…” His voice broke.

“Because of Jason and Beckendorf and Silena and Michael and Gwen and Dakota and Lee and gods alone know how many others?”

“... Yeah.” Percy’s voice broke again. He took a deep breath and held it.

“... That’s a really common feeling,” Will murmured. “And it sucks because we  _ don’t  _ know that it’s all gonna be okay.”

Percy huffed. “... Yeah.”

Will watched as a few tears broke free and dripped down his cheeks. “... You need a hug?”

Percy nodded. “... Sure.”

Will wrapped his arms awkwardly around Percy. Percy leaned his head against Will’s shoulder. Will gently traced his hands over Percy’s back, half-patting, half-holding. Percy sank heavily against him, holding tight. The pain and exhaustion felt like a lead weight on his shoulders. It was a relief to be able to lean his body against Will’s, blissful somehow. “... You give nice hugs,” Percy mumbled, finally, once his head was a little clearer. “I can understand why… why Nico would want you all to himself.”

Will chuckled. It was a warm, steady sound. “... Well, Nico needs to share. There are other people out there who need hugs.”

“... Like me,” Percy murmured, barely thinking about what he was saying.

Will nodded, resting his cheek against Percy’s head. “... Yeah. Like you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting as frequently. I'm not dead or dying or whatever, I've just been busy with D&D stuff. Also, I've been super logey ever since finishing high school. Like, I legitimately have no energy to write anymore. 
> 
> Stress is the core of my art, I guess.


	91. Some Percabeth- Blisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy goes over to borrow some eggs off of Will and co. but notices some weird blisters on Will's arms when he does. He worries it's because of domestic violence, so he presses Will on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! Hooray!
> 
> Self harm warning, but not as graphic as some other stuff in this doc. Honestly, if you made it through "Clarisse's Knives, Edgy Version" you'll have no problem with this.

“You do realize you need eggs to make pancakes, right?” 

The judgement in Annabeth’s voice was evident to Percy. His spine crawled. “... Sorry, Wise Girl. I… I forgot.”

Annabeth shook her head. “Seaweed Brain… okay. Just go next door and see if Will and Nico have any.” She turned, retreating back into the giant Lego fort she’d built in their living room, muttering all the while. “How do you…  _ really?  _ You remember the blue food coloring but not the… gods.”

“... Sorry,” Percy mumbled sheepishly. He ran his fingers through his hair. “You can eat something else, Wise Girl. You don’t have to wait for my shitty experimental food.”

Annabeth sighed heavily. “Don’t worry about it, Seaweed Brain. I don’t date you for your culinary skills.”

Percy shrugged. “Frankly, I’m not a hundred percent sure why you  _ are  _ dating me. I’m not good for much.”

“Don’t say things like that.” Annabeth reemerged from the fort. She sighed and gave Percy a kiss on his cheek. “You’re good for things. At bare minimum, you provide comic relief.”

“... Thanks, Wise Girl,” Percy half-groaned. 

“You’re welcome. Also, I’m not even hungry. I’ve already eaten. So don’t worry about me.” She kissed his other cheek. “Go get the eggs, please, okay?”

Percy closed his eyes for a second, savoring the feeling of the kiss as it slowly faded away. “Will do.” He gave her a kiss on the lips. “Love you. See you later.”

Annabeth crawled back into her fort. “Love you too, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy left the apartment. He knocked on the door of Nico and Will’s (and Lou Ellen and Cecil’s) apartment. 

It was a minute before Will answered. “Who… Oh!” Will shifted, chuckling uneasily. “Hey, man. Wasn’t expecting you. What do you need?”

“Hey, man. Can I borrow some eggs?”

Will shrugged. “Sure. Come on in and look in our fridge. If we have some, you can take some. Frankly, I have no idea if we have any eggs, I don’t do the cooking.”

Percy half-listened to Will’s babbling as he entered the apartment. He scanned Will. Will was wearing a cruddy undershirt and basketball shorts. Percy’s eyes were drawn to what looked like a sort of sore on Will’s shoulder. When he looked closer, there were several of them. “Hey, man, your shoulder okay?”

Will almost seemed to flinch. “Uh. Yeah. It’s okay. It’s just a couple of popped blisters. That’s all.”

“Huh. Okay. That’s kind of a weird place to get a blister. Maybe throw out the shirt that did that shit to your shoulders,” Percy laughed.

“Already did.” Will sniffled, then sneezed. “Ugh. Sorry.” 

Percy opened their fridge. Three pizza boxes, a jar of strawberry jam, milk... eggs!  _ Yes! Now Annabeth won’t think I’m such a screaming failure!  _ He took an egg from the box. “Alright. This’ll work. Thanks, man.”

Will nodded. “Always welcome.” He’d taken a seat on the couch, curling up in the fetal position. 

“... By the way, where are…”

“The others? They’re all out. Cecil went grocery shopping. Nico and Lou Ellen went to go fuck around in the graveyard or something, I don’t know.” Will buried his face in his arm. 

“... Ah. All right.” Percy scanned Will. He looked… tired, somehow. Will was normally pretty relaxed, but this seemed… excessive. “... Hey, man, you okay?”

Will shrugged. “... I’m... I’m just… I don’t know.”

“You tired?”

“... I guess.” Will picked at something on his arm. 

Moving closer, Percy could see it was another blister. “... Jeez, dude, that’s a shit ton of blisters. How do you even get that many? Did you have an allergic reaction or something?”

Will was silent for a long time. “... Dunno.” He sneezed again.

“... Damn. Well… take some ambrosia.” He looked a little closer. “Fuck, dude, that’s  _ gross.” _

Will shrugged. “Not as gross as someone’s intestines bulging out of their hacked-open stomach as they bleed out in an infirmary cot.”

Percy was quiet for a while. “... Ooookay. Don’t exactly know how to respond to that.” He pulled an ambrosia square out of his pocket. “Still, you should take this. It’ll make the good skin under the blisters form faster, so you don’t have as many gross sores.”

Will took it. He half-heartedly munched it. “... Yeah. They kind of blend in with my freckles, though, so it’ll work. Even if it leaves a scar or something, it’ll be fine.”

“... Once they’re healed, yeah,” Percy agreed. “Anyway, I gotta get back to my place. I’m gonna make some pancakes, you want some?”

Will was quiet. “... I…”

“Yes or no question, dude.”

“... No. I’m all right.”

Percy nodded. “... All right, dude. Just making sure. I thought you might want to… I dunno. You’re acting a little weird is all.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate the concern.”

Percy scanned him. The longer he looked, the more blisters and sores he thought he saw. “... Tell me if you need anything.”

Will nodded. “... Will do.”

“Good. Seeya. Take care of yourself.” Percy nodded and left with his egg. He returned to his apartment deep in thought. Why was Will being so shady about those blisters? After all, an allergic reaction wasn’t too shameful. Even if he’d got the blisters dropping a bowl of microwave ramen on his head or something really stupid, it would at least have been a funny story. 

_ What if Nico did it to him? _ The thought shot through Percy’s head like a bullet.  _ It would explain why he’s so sad and tired. I don’t know why Nico would hurt him, but still… what if? _

Percy turned and ran back into the apartment. Will jolted, falling off the couch. “Percy? What the hell…”

“Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Percy panted. He moved quickly over to Will, crouching down, grabbing his arm, pointing to the blisters. “Did Nico do this to you?”

“Did… no! Fuck no! Nico would never hurt me. He’d never hurt me in any way. And I’m offended you’d ask that.” Will pulled his arm away, moving back to the couch. 

“... I’m sorry for offending you,” Percy replied, sitting down on the floor. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to offend you. I only… I only wanted to make sure you weren’t being… I don’t know.”

“No, no. I seriously appreciate it,” Will nodded. “I… yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just wanted to make sure.”

Will scanned Percy’s face. Percy looked distant, his green eyes not exactly cold, but not warm either. “... I’m not being hurt,” Will mumbled. “Not now.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Percy nodded. “I was worried because… I guess just because you were so tired and sad. I knew it was a stretch. I’m sorry.”

Will gave Percy a long look. “... As I said, don’t apologize.”

Percy returned it, trying to find anything in his pale blue eyes that would give answers. Will’s eyes were very slightly bloodshot. “... Are you sure you’re okay? You were kind of sneezy earlier, do you have… are you sick, having an allergic reaction? What’s going on with you?”

Will looked down. “I… Okay. Look. I’m a little off. It’s not your fault. There’s nothing you can really do about it. I was a little sniffly because I was a little upset. That’s all.”

Percy gave Will a sympathetic look. “Okay, dude. That was all you had to say. That doesn’t explain the blisters, though, are they from something else?”

“Why are you so hung up on those blisters? It’s not any of your business!” Will griped. 

Percy pulled back. “Sorry, man, just thought there was some kind of story behind them. And they looked numerous and painful. I dunno. I’ll fuck off if you need.”

Will sighed. “... I don’t want you to ‘fuck off’. I just don’t… okay. Yes, they are burns. There was an incident with a lighter and some candles. Does that make you happy?”

“How do you burn your shoulders with a… son of a bitch, was this  _ purposeful?” _

Will was silent. He rolled over, turning his back to Percy. 

“... Does anyone else know about this?”

“... Just Nico,” Will replied hoarsely. “Honest, Percy, this doesn’t happen very often. I don’t do it hardly ever. Before today, the last time I did it was like a year ago. I only did it today because… because… I… please don’t tell anyone. Please, I… please!”

“We’re good, man. We’re good. I’m not gonna tell anyone. We’re good. You say you don’t do it very often? Only once a year?”

Will took a deep breath. “... Yeah. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, man, I just… wow. There’s… that’s a lot to do to yourself. That’s a lot to do in one day.” Percy shook his head. “... I’m just a little stunned, that’s all. I mean, this isn’t something I see every day.”

“... Lots of… us do it. More than you’d think,” Will sighed. “I’ve known at least three people who hurt themselves habitually, and one other who starved themselves. It’s… not rare.”

Percy was quiet. “... Is it… sexual? Does it give a release? What’s the allure?”

“It’s not sexual.” Will rolled over, meeting Percy’s eyes. “It is a release, but… it’s not sexual. Not for me, anyway.”

Percy nodded. “... Makes sense, but… geez. I still don’t… I don’t know what to say, Will. I’m not… I’m not good with words, man, but I am sorry.”

Will sniffled. “... I’m sorry for putting you in this situation. That’s why I tried to dodge the question.”

Percy shrugged. “Nah. It’s good. I was the one who put myself where I shouldn’t be.” He gave Will’s shoulder an awkward pat. “... Is there anything I can do to help you out?”

Will shook his head. “... No.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Percy nodded. “... Okay.” He glanced over at Will. Will’s eyes were watery. “... If I go, are you gonna go hurt yourself more?”

Will shook his head, wiping his eyes. “... I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“... I’m not gonna hurt myself,” Will sniffled. “I’ll be fine. I swear, Percy, this isn’t…” A tear broke free from the corner of his eye, dripping over the bridge of his nose. “Ugh. I… I’m sorry. This isn’t regular for me, I swear!”

“No, I believe you. I believe you. C’mere and get a hug, man. You’re good.” Percy held out his arms.

Will snuggled in, burying his face in Percy’s broad chest. Percy’s shirt was soft against his cheek, his arms curled snugly over his shoulders and back. Percy smelled sweet, clean somehow, something that felt safe and secure and homey for Will. It took him a minute to realize it was sea air. Will thought that maybe, under separate circumstances, he might have been a little into it. It took Will a moment to realize that he’d been so lost in the warm bliss of the embrace that he’d forgotten to hug Percy back. He shifted, awkwardly, and returned the hug. 

Percy patted Will’s back. He remembered something he’d read somewhere, something about never being the first one to let go of a hug if you were trying to comfort someone, because you had no way of knowing if they were adequately comforted or not. Despite that, he couldn’t help but wonder why Will was hanging on for so long.  _ I mean, my hugs aren’t that nice.  _

It was a moment before Will pulled away. He wiped his eyes. “... Thanks, man. I… I didn’t… I didn’t know how much I needed that.”

Percy shrugged. “No problem, dude. Now, no more hurting yourself, you hear?”

Will gave Percy a watery smile. “... I’ll do my best. I can… ugh. I feel bad because I can handle the bad stuff most of the time really well, but sometimes…”

“No, I get it. Stuff comes back sometimes. Happens to me too,” Percy nodded. “It’s not a problem. I just… I just don’t want you to hurt yourself for it, ‘cuz from what I’ve seen of you, you’re a good kid and you don’t deserve it.”

Will’s ears reddened. “... Thanks.”

“Again, no problem.” Percy patted his shoulder. “I’m gonna go make my pancakes now. Come over if you need.”

Will looked down. “... Thanks, man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That damn infirmary job should never have gone to a young teen. I don't fucking care what powers he has, he's a kid. He shouldn't have seen so much shit.


	92. Mentions of Percabeth- Emotional Unwellness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So beobeo and guest32 both requested that I show some of Will's perspective from the last drabble. I thought that was a pretty good idea. This is that... roughly. I also worked Cecil into this one because I HC that he's basically Will's version of a Grover Underwood.
> 
> Self harm warning. Also, Will has some fairly nightmarish memories.

Will buried his face in the pillow. He listened to Percy’s footsteps recede from their apartment, still feeling the warmth of Percy’s arms around him. A small tear trickled down his cheek. He jolted slightly.

_Oh._

_That’s_ what Percy’s hug had reminded him of. He saw Lee’s smiling face perched above him, felt his hand gently stroke through his hair. _It’s gonna be okay, little brother,_ he said. _You’re okay. I love you. Come here and get a hug._ He pressed his face harder into the pillow, a sob choking out of his throat. He saw a sudden burst of red in front of his vision, Lee collapsed, blood pouring out of what had once been his head. Will almost screamed. His eyes flashed open, hot tears running down his cheeks. He sat up. His fingers scrabbled mindlessly for his lighter. _This isn’t regular for me,_ he heard himself say. _This isn’t regular. I’m not going to burn myself, Percy. I’m not gonna burn myself._

_What an asshole you are, worrying Percy pointlessly. Douchebag._

Will groaned as his fingers connected; he pulled it out and held the lighter under a pencil he had nearby, watched as it slowly took light. He watched it burn for a moment, mentally preparing himself for the sting, imagining it melting his skin like soft wax. He watched as it burned out, a small puff of smoke rising from the tip. He touched the tip to his arm, feeling the sting shoot through his flesh. 

_You deserve this._

_You let your brother die._

_You let so many of them die._

_This isn’t regular._

He moved his makeshift poker away from his skin, watching it raise a white mark of burned and melted skin, graphite and ash contaminating the blister. He thought of Percy, how disappointed he would be. He thought of Nico, how helpless he’d looked the other times he’d seen him hurt. He thought of Cecil, of his smile, of the cookies he’d always make whenever Will was upset. He thought of Lou Ellen, of the gashes she put on her arms. He thought back to cradling her when he’d found out, back to Cecil and his arms wrapped around her as she cried herself out, rocking back and forth. He sniffled.

He _really_ wanted a hug.

He stood up, wobbling back into the room he shared with Nico. His head seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, his body felt light and fragile. He was sure his head would snap his neck if he relaxed his muscles. He pulled a sweatshirt on to hide the blisters and sniffled, sitting down on his bed. He picked up Nico’s pillow and held it to his face, inhaling the scent of shampoo and natural oils. It was reassuring in a way he couldn’t quite describe.

He curled up on Nico’s side of the bed, wrapping himself tightly in the blankets, taking in Nico’s scent on the pillows. He felt his eyes well. _I’m such a fucking failure. I promised Percy I wouldn’t hurt myself anymore. And then I went and did it again. Maybe I should just burn through all the skin on my wrists, melt into my veins, destroy myself and bleed._ The veins of his wrists tingled, tempting him, daring him. Fear spiked against the walls of his chest, cold. Tears trickled over the bridge of his nose, almost slimy. His face was so drippy, it was so disgusting. Self-hatred clawed at his ribcage. He groaned. 

“... Hey, man.” A soft voice cut through his thoughts. “You awake?”

Will wiped his eyes and looked up. Cecil was standing at the door, leaning against the doorframe. “... Yeah, man. I’m awake. Why?”

Cecil moved closer to him. “Just curious. I just finished putting the groceries away.” Cecil studied his face. “... You all right, dude? You look really sad.”

Will closed his eyes. “... I… I don’t feel so well.”

Cecil cupped his palm against his forehead. Will leaned into the touch. “Well, you don’t seem feverish. Is it an emotional unwellness? Because I bought flour and butter and chocolate chips.”

Will nodded. “... Yeah. That’d be nice.”

Cecil patted his shoulder. “All right, bro. You wanna… you wanna talk about it?”

Will was silent. “... Cecil, I… there’s something you need to know about.”

Cecil scanned him. “What is it?”

Will wiped his eyes. “... I… I…” He pulled up his sweatshirt sleeve, revealing some of the blisters. “I…”

Cecil studied his arm. “... Where’d you get the blisters? Not from Nico, I’d hope.”

Will sniffled. “No. Not from Nico. Cecil, they’re…”

“... self-inflicted?” Cecil guessed.

Will gave a small nod. 

Cecil patted his hand. “... I’m sorry. I’m sorry you feel like you need to… like you need to do this.”

Will sniffled. “I… I don’t even do it that often. This was… was the first time in… in like a year. I just… oh… I went off the rails. I went all the way off the rails. And Percy… Percy came over to borrow an egg and… and he caught me. And I swore I wouldn’t do it any more but… but…” A small sob choked out of Will’s throat. 

Cecil leaned in, wrapping an arm around him. “... I’m sorry, man. You must be really low, then. I… damn, I should have made you come with me.”

Will leaned in, burying his face in Cecil’s chest. “... No, it’s… it’s fine. I… I’m sorry. I just… it hurts. I’ve failed so many. I’m such a… a failure.”

Cecil squeezed him. “You are _not_ a failure. I wouldn’t be busting my sack to put your ass through pre-med if I thought you were a failure. And neither would Lou Ellen. You’re not a failure, Will, you’re brilliant. Now quit moping and come out so I can get you some cookies.”

Will sniffled. “I got my own brother killed, Cecil. He died in front of me because… because I was too stupid to figure out that there was a giant behind me with a club.”

“Oh. That’s what this is about.” Cecil leaned in, rubbing his back gently. “Lee loved you, Will. He loved you so much. He wouldn’t want… he wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. He went willingly. You did not force him. You did not fail him. He wouldn’t see it as a failure on your part. I promise.”

“... And what about my… my…” He gestured to the blisters. “And Percy, I promised him…”

“Percy’s fine. He’s not mad at you,” Cecil soothed, petting Will’s hair. “If you want, I can take you over there and you can come clean. Would that help? Just to know he isn’t mad?” 

Will was silent for a long time. Then he gave a small nod. “... Sure.”

Cecil ruffled his hair. “All right. Let’s go. Do you need any aloe vera or something before we go?”

Will shook his head. “I’m okay. Percy already gave me some ambrosia.”

“Good.” Cecil pulled away, standing up. “Let’s go.”

Will felt a sudden emptiness at Cecil’s absence. Cecil extended a hand to Will and he took it, slowly rolling out of bed. He readjusted his sweatshirt around himself. “Yes. Let’s.”

A moment later, they were standing in front of Percy’s door. Will knocked, his stomach turning circles. 

Percy opened it. “Oh hey, man. What do you need? You okay?”

“... Can we talk for a moment?” Will asked. 

Percy nodded. “Yeah, sure. Come on in. Let’s go. Cecil, you wanna come in, or…”

Cecil shrugged. “Only if Will wants me there.”

Will gave a small nod. “... Maybe… go back to our place.”

Cecil nodded. “Sure. I’ll go make the cookies.”

“Cookies?” Percy asked.

“Yeah,” Cecil agreed. “I always make them for Will when he’s upset. You want some? I have enough dough for like two or three dozen.”

Percy shrugged. “Sure.” He grinned. “Thanks, man.”

“No prob,” Cecil nodded. “Seeya later. Be gentle on Will, okay?”

Percy nodded. “Will do.”

Will followed Percy inside on shaky legs. Percy said something to Annabeth, but Will didn’t really hear what it was. Percy led him into his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed. It was a big bed with a blue comforter covering roughly half of it. Will wanted to wrap himself in it. 

“So…” Percy started, “is this about… earlier?”

Will nodded. He sat gingerly on his knees in front of Percy. “I… I fucked up.”

“... Did you do it again?”

Will nodded again.

Percy looked down. “... I’m sorry, man, I… I don’t know what to say.”

“... Are you mad?” Will sniffled.

“Of course not,” Percy replied. “I’m not mad, dude, just really confused. I… I don’t know why someone would… would hurt themselves like that.”

Will sniffled. He felt his sinuses fill. “... I’m sorry. I… I guess I… I deserve it. I do. For failing so many people. And for worrying you. And for worrying Nico and Cecil and so many others. I’m a fucking douchebag. I’m sorry.”

“... I’m sorry you feel that way,” Percy replied, finally. He moved a little closer and patted Will’s shoulder. “I mean, from the outside, you seem like a pretty successful guy. You’re in pre-med, you’re real smart, you’ve got a nice boyfriend and a decent cast of friends… I mean, really, you’ve got it good. And you don’t need to be mad at yourself for worrying us, man, it’s not a problem. If you need help, you need help.”

Will sniffled. He wiped his eyes. “... Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about me, man. I’m okay,” Percy reassured. “It won’t cripple me to know about your… bad habit.”

Will looked at Percy, an expression of immense thankfulness in his eyes. “... Thanks. I’m glad you’re not… mad.”

Percy patted his shoulder. “Of course not, bro. Get a hug, man. You’ll be all right.”

Will ducked in for a quick backpatting squeeze. He leaned into Percy’s shoulder, closing his eyes. _I should stop. Any more of these hugs and I’ll get feelings, and that would be bad. For myself, Percy, Nico and Annabeth._

He pulled away. “... Thanks, Percy. I… I… thanks.”

Percy patted his back. “It’s cool. Also… you mentioned something about failing a lot of people… you didn’t. You’re the reason a lot of us are alive right now. I mean, you saved Annabeth. I _owe_ you.”

Will closed his eyes. “... But… I… what about…”

“... No medic can save everyone, dude,” Percy murmured. “It’s not possible. Sometimes people are just too badly hurt.”

Will looked at his knees, trying not to imagine Lee’s broken remains, Claire’s blood trickling into the Manhattan sidewalk, Summer’s guts twitching, twitching as she died, choking up blood as Will tried to push her organs back into her body. Too much gore. “... Still hurts,” Will mumbled.

Percy nodded. “I mean, you told me yourself that we’re all hurting. The stuff we’ve been through… it hurts us all. You told me I’m not alone, well, you’re not alone either. It’s okay.”

Will gave a small nod. He took a deep breath. “It… I can’t put it out of my mind sometimes. It… it won’t go away.”

“... I understand,” Percy replied simply. “If I ever find the solution to these types of horrible thoughts, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks,” Will whispered. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Percy shrugged. “I… I don’t know quite how to help you, but… again, ask if you need.”

“Thanks,” Will replied. “I… I really appreciate it. I do.”

Percy nodded. He stretched, standing up. “I appreciate you saving Annabeth, convincing Nico to stay at camp and helping me out when I was gonna stab myself a while back and then again when I was gonna hurl myself off the roof. Now…” He shifted. “About those cookies…”

“Godsdammit, dude, it’s been ten minutes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was something like what you guys wanted. I didn't know you all liked Will and Percy's friendship so much lol.


	93. Percabeth- I Will Actually Eat Your Pancreas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth notices some strange things in the apartment when she comes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for dirty jokes and ever-so-slight blood. Also, this is really stupid.

Annabeth sighed, jiggling open the door of her and Percy’s apartment. She blinked, looking around. Meg’s blankets were in a pile on her sofa bed. She noticed a strange red drop on the tile next to her foot. She looked up. A few more red drops made a trail to the bathroom. _Okay. What the fuck?_

She looked around. A black garden hose was hooked up to their sink faucet. It led to the bathroom, same as the trail. Annabeth huffed. “Seaweed Brain…” she muttered, walking towards the bathroom. She knocked.

“... Uh… come in?” Meg called from the bathroom.

Annabeth pushed her way inside. Meg was sitting on the side of the tub, garden hoses in both hands. She was spraying them into the bathtub. “... Okay, what in the living, bleeding…” She stepped closer. “Seaweed Brain!”

“... Before you say anything, I’d just like to say that I’m sorry.” Percy was lying in the bathtub, wearing nothing but swim trunks. A large, fading brown bruise dominated his shoulder. Both of his knees were skinned. His nose was dripping blood and there was a big scratch across his forehead. His wrist was lying up on the side of the tub, wrapped up in an elastic bandage. “Also, the wrist is just twisted. It’s not seriously injured or anything. I had Will check.”

Annabeth huffed. “... What… what even happened?”

“Skateboard wreck,” Percy grinned. 

Annabeth huffed. “Hope it hurt, Seaweed Brain. Hope… it… hurt.”

“The wrist hurt like a bitch. Rest of it… nothing too unusual,” Percy sighed. “Just glad it wasn’t an ankle.”

“Ankles are worse, yes,” Annabeth agreed. “And yeah, deep-tissue stuff is also super painful. Feel lucky it’s not worse. Also, why the fuck…” She gestured to Meg.

“I was hoping I could speed-heal myself so you wouldn’t notice I’d busted myself up,” Percy giggled sheepishly. “Meg was trying to help.”

“I figured the more water the better,” Meg said.

“And why are all of our towels on the floor?” Annabeth gestured to the large pile of towels at her feet. 

“The bathtub overflowed a few times,” Meg replied. 

Annabeth took stock of the situation. “... You two look ridiculous,” she summed.

Meg opened her mouth to protest, then looked at Percy and the hoses and said “... I hate it when you’re right.”

“She’s always right,” Percy grumbled. He sat up, sending water sloshing over the side of the tub.

“Hey!” Meg protested. “Those are my shorts you’re soaking! I don’t want to look like I’ve been pissed on!”

“Wasn’t trying to.” Percy climbed up out of the tub, pulling the plug. He tossed the towels into the laundry hamper in the corner. 

“Half-blood, more like half- _wit_ with you two,” Annabeth snipped. “Also, I’m not always right. It’s just that you two are almost always wrong.”

“Thanks, asshole,” Meg laughed. She got up. “Get out of here, I’m gonna change.”

“All right, chodemouth,” Annabeth replied. “Glad to see you two idiots are okay. Percy, go get a shirt. No one wants to see that.”

“You sure you don’t?” Percy laughed.

Annabeth scanned him up and down. Water drops shone on his developed abs. “... We’ll talk. Later.”

“Percy and An-na-beth, sitting in a tree…”

“Meg, I will actually eat your pancreas,” Annabeth threatened. 

“Don’t do _that,”_ Percy protested. “I mean, look at her, she’s so small and adorable! You don’t want to hurt her.”

“I swear to god, I will sterilize you both in your sleep.”

“But I thought you wanted my baby batter in your toddler launcher.”

Annabeth gave Percy a very long look. “I have never been less aroused in my life, you know that?”

Meg, meanwhile, was devolving into gut-busting laughter. “Oh, you guys. I love you two, you know that?”

“Love you too,” Percy replied as Annabeth turned and stormed out. “See you later, Wise Girl.”

Annabeth merely huffed, throwing a shirt back at Percy. He fumbled the catch and it hit him in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like 2/3 of the times Percy plays a prominent role in one of my fics, he either bleeds, cries, vomits or passes out. It's not all the time, but it happens enough to be weird.


	94. Percabeth- Specter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth has a nightmare. Percy helps. This is my attempt to rectify the fact that I have a crapload of content where Annabeth comforts Percy, but almost none where Percy comforts Annabeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for (small amounts of) vomit and spiders. Also, why does every other fic I write feature a scene where someone either dry-heaves or straight up pukes?

Annabeth couldn’t move.

She was tied down. Or maybe she was paralyzed. She couldn’t tell. Either way, her legs felt like lead. Something was crawling on her legs. She was covered, trapped, attacked. Covered in spiders. The bugs made no sound, nothing that could alert anyone. Where was Percy? Where was anyone? She couldn’t move. She couldn’t see anything. The room was absolutely black. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. Her chest was so tight she couldn’t breathe. Her head spun. Her stomach twisted. _I can’t throw up. I’ll choke. I’ll die. I can’t. Percy. Where’s Percy?_ She tried to grip the blankets, but she couldn’t move. The spiders crawled higher. Annabeth managed a pathetic whimper. The first bite stung hard, the pain shooting through her thigh like the jab of a needle. She pushed air out of her lungs, pressing hard, soundless, soundless… the bites only continued. Got worse. Got higher. Thousands of insect bites stung through her body, she was a human pincushion being jabbed full of who-knows-what. Her mind was completely blank. She couldn’t think. Her heart was pounding so hard her whole chest hurt. 

_Letmedieletmedieletmediepleasejustletmedie… oh gods… why am I still… please… please…_ The spider bites flowed higher, an unrelenting tide of disgusting itches. They bit up her arms, neck, over her chin and then one was on her lips and slipping into her mouth and… 

She jolted, hard, her body felt like it was being electrocuted and she was rolling over and someone was shouting and she was falling, hitting the ground and her stomach was revolting, revolting. Spittle and vomit trickled from her lips. She was shaking.

“-beth!”

Annabeth looked up. 

Percy was lying above her, looking down. “What the… what the hell just ha… oh, gods! Um.” Percy took a deep breath. He rolled out of bed, sitting down next to her. “... Did you have a nightmare?”

Annabeth looked at him. He seemed bright and unreal in a way, a specter sitting above her, a being that seemed hazy, like if she’d touch him, he’d disappear and she’d be alone in the dark with the bugs. “... Percy,” she croaked. “... Percy.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “It’s me. I think you just had a nightmare. Here, let me get you a washcloth. Your face is dirty.”

“Don’t go,” Annabeth croaked. “I know… I know I’m dirty but please, please…”

“Okay. Okay,” Percy whispered. He poured a little water on a tee shirt by the side of the bed and wiped her face. “Here. Let’s do this, then. This’ll help.”

She clutched his wrist, enjoying feeling him there, solid and _real._ “... I love you,” she moaned. “Please, I love you so much. I do. Stay with me. Please, stay with me.”

Percy took her hand in his free one. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. I’m okay. We’re safe now. Do you want… do you want to come closer? Come back to bed?”

Annabeth closed her eyes. “... Where are the spiders?”

Percy raised his eyebrows. “What spiders?”

“You didn’t… see them? The bites? I was bit. Where are the…” Annabeth jerked, sitting up. Her skin was as uninterrupted and smooth as it always had been. “... Oh…”

“I think it might just have been a bad dream,” Percy murmured. “I can check the bed if you want, though, but I’ll be honest, you’re more likely to encounter a spider on the floor than in the bed. It’s not like I’m eating chicken wings in here or something.”

“... Stay with me,” Annabeth mumbled. “Please. Stay with me. Don’t go.”

“I won’t,” Percy replied. “I won’t. Do you want to… do you want to stand up together?”

Annabeth nodded. Percy scooped her up, sitting down in bed, cradling her against his strong chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggling close into his shoulder. She felt him sit down, lean against the pillows. She was floating, almost, weightless as he moved her. “... Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you. Thank you. I… I love you.” 

Percy gave her a little squeeze. “You’re welcome. I love you too.” She felt his lips connect against the back of her neck, heard the tiny _smek_ of his lips as he kissed. “It’s gonna be okay, Wise Girl, my love. It was only a nightmare. There aren’t any spiders here. I promise.”

“... But what if there are?” Annabeth’s voice was tiny, muffled by Percy’s shoulder, his arms. 

“Then I’ll swat them. They’re bugs. They’re squishy,” Percy asserted. “Considering all the other stuff I’ve taken down, I don’t think a few spiders will do me in.”

Annabeth was quiet. _What about black widows? Do we have those here? What about a tarantula? You don’t know if one of those escaped._ “... Think you could take a tarantula?”

“I could, yes. It’d be gross as shit, but I could absolutely take a tarantula,” Percy returned.

“Black widow?”

“Are we talking about the spider, the superhero, or the type of woman? Because I could take the spider, but…”

“Spider. And… yeah, thank you.” 

Percy nodded. “You’re welcome.” He ran fingers over her sides, stroking up under her oversized tee shirt. 

Annabeth focused in on the touch, his fingers feather-light over her skin. It tickled, but not in the same way that the bugs did. It warmed the walls of her chest in a way nothing else did. “... Will you kiss my neck again?” she mumbled, almost scared to ask. 

“‘Course, Wise Girl.” He leaned in, kissing her again. “I love you. You always smell so nice.”

“Love you too,” Annabeth murmured. “I’d kiss you, but I have puke breath, so…”

Percy chuckled. Annabeth felt his chest rumble. He gave her a squeeze. “I love you anyway, Wise Girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of hard for me to write more serious drabbles now for some reason. It's weird because there's not really anything going on in my life right now, so I really should be able to produce like two or three drabbles a day or something, but I'm just... not. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the Percabeth fluff/hurt/comfort.


	95. Some Sherman x Miranda (Sheranda?)- Butterfly Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank wants to know what Sherman's big secret is. Sherman just doesn't want to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Sherman being afraid of Clarisse.

“Hey, man, whatcha thinking about?” Frank looked down at Sherman, who was sitting on the side of a fountain just off the street in New Rome. It was a coolish night, and a pathetic sliver of moon could be seen between the lights of the streetlamps.

Sherman looked up, moving slowly, as if he was dreaming. “... Hey, man. Uh. Just thinking about… the butterfly effect, I guess.”

“It is fascinating, isn’t it?” Frank agreed, sitting down next to him. “The tiniest of decisions can lead to straight-up world changing effects.”

Sherman nodded. He didn’t respond. He stared numbly into space, his eyes glassy. 

Frank studied him. “... Any particular reason you were thinking about… that?”

Sherman huffed. He shook his head. “... I don’t know how to begin talking about it.”

Frank shrugged. “All right, man. If it’s because it’s a long story, I’ve got all night. It’s cool.”

Sherman snorted. “No, it’s because it could get me killed.”

“... Aaaand that means it’s need-to-know. Whatever it was, I’m sure it was accidental, man. Did you… hurt somebody?”

“Not with my own hands,” Sherman sighed. “Look, man, I never… I never…”

“I’m sure it was accidental,” Frank murmured. “Please, tell me what’s going on.”

Sherman huffed again. “... Ugh. I… I do need to get this off my chest, I guess. Just… one thing. Clarisse  _ cannot  _ hear about this.”

“Why?”

“She’ll kill me. Like, she’ll actually kill me.” Sherman swallowed hard. “I’m scared for my life here, man.”

“Okay. Okay. I won’t tell her. I’ll make sure she doesn’t find out. It’s okay, man. You can tell me,” Frank reassured.

Sherman took a deep breath. He looked up, focusing on the sky above. “... Clarisse had a friend a while back.”

Frank cocked his head. “... Silena?”

“Yeah, her. Did… did Clarisse ever tell you how she died?”

Frank nodded. “Put on Clarisse’s armor, charged into battle, got killed.”

“Correct. But…” Sherman huffed. “I… she didn’t come up with that idea.”

Frank was quiet for a second. “... Then who did?”

Sherman paused. It was a pregnant pause. Frank could see the darkness in the lines of his face. “... I did.”

“... What?” Frank could barely speak. “Why? What was the logic?”

“I… I wanted to go fight. I wanted to be a hero. And it… it wasn’t like I could just defy Clarisse. She’d… she’d kept us out because we had a beef with Apollo. And she repeatedly refused to change her mind. So… when Silena came back, I just kind of… I saw an out. And she provided it.”

“... Sounds like Clarisse put you all in a terrible place,” Frank murmured. 

“Yeah. And it worked, too. Silena wasn’t sure it would work. I told her as long as she didn’t wake Clarisse while doing it it would be fine. And Clarisse is a sound sleeper too. It was so… so  _ easy,”  _ Sherman sighed. “Until we got to the battlefield, that is. You see… Clarisse would have… have charged in. Silena knew this. So she… she rushed in. And she died almost instantly. 

And Clarisse… Clarisse got there almost instantly after and she… she just went nuts. She was screaming at us. Calling us idiots. It was then… it was then I knew I had to shut up about what I’d done, probably forever.” Sherman took a deep, slow breath. “And then… the drakon, the drakon that killed Silena struck again and…” He swallowed. “... it ate Evan. It ate my man Evan. Then Clarisse jumped the drakon like it owed her drug money and I grabbed… I grabbed the nearest cabinmate--it turned out to be Ellis--and jumped behind a car. Yeah. Real heroic of me. I ran and hid. Anyway, Clarisse, she killed it basically singlehandedly. It was scary as shit to watch.”

“And you’re thinking that…”

“If Clarisse can do that to something that large, then what could she do to me?”

Frank was quiet. “... I’m sorry. I… I’m sorry it went so wrong. I promise I won’t tell Clarisse about this.”

“There’s even a saying about it.  _ Ares rides at sundown,”  _ Sherman murmured. “It’s used when a simple maneuver goes horribly wrong.”

“May I use that?”

“You may. Also, I… I’m sorry for troubling you with this, but…”

“Nah, man, you had to get it off your chest. Also, it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t. You didn’t know she’d get killed.” Frank patted Sherman’s back. “It’s good.”

Sherman whirled, suddenly grabbing Frank by the collar. “Do  _ not  _ tell Clarisse. I’m serious. I know I’ve said it before, but seriously, I don’t want to die. Miranda needs me, man. Let me live for my girl.”

“Dude, I’ve already said I won’t tell her,” Frank reassured, wrenching Sherman’s hand off his throat. “Chill. I have a girlfriend too. I know what it’s like. I’m not gonna get you hurt.”

Sherman pulled back, standing up. “You’re a good man, Zhang. Maybe a little too good. Either way… thank you.” Sherman gave a half-bow. 

“It was necessary, I think. To tell the truth,” Frank said. “Also, does anyone else know about this?”

“Nope. It’s just between me and you. Not even Miranda knows about this.”

“... Maybe you should tell her,” Frank suggested. “It might help.”

Sherman gave a bitter laugh. “Oh, noooo, it wouldn’t. Miranda and Clarisse are good friends. She’d wind up telling her for certain. I love Miranda with all my heart and soul but I don’t want to risk it.” Sherman trailed his hand through the cool mist of the fountain. “It’s not worth it to me, and besides, Miranda shouldn’t bear that burden. She doesn’t deserve that weight. She has enough problems without me putting this on her shoulders.”

Frank nodded. “... Okay. I get it. Just keep in mind that… this is what relationships are for. You help each other. Bear weight for each other.”

Sherman was quiet for a long time. “... Say what you want. I don’t want to die.”

“Do what you want, man. I don’t control you.” Frank stood up. “Thanks for telling me anyway.”

Sherman gave him a funny look. “... You’re welcome, I guess. See you later, man.” He turned to leave. 

Frank shrugged. “All right. See you later as well.” He walked off, purple robes vanishing into the night.

Sherman sighed. He walked back to his apartment, his knees almost shaking.  _ Why did I tell him? I don’t know if this guy can keep a secret. I don’t know this guy’s issues. I don’t know this guy well enough to know if he’s reliable. Oh, fuck me. I’ve just painted a target on my back. _

He slipped into his apartment, tiptoeing all the way. He knelt by Miranda’s bed and kissed her cheek. “... I love you,” he whispered. “My girl.” He kissed her again. “... I love you. Goodnight. Stay safe.”

_ And I’ll keep myself safe for you, even if it means hiding a life-destroying secret. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this headcanon for a while now. I kind of just got around to writing about it.  
> Also, the "Evan" mentioned was the unnamed Ares kid that got eaten by the drakon in Silena's death scene. I named him for the sake of this drabble.


	96. Some Solangelo-Believe Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lou Ellen accidentally opens a can of worms regarding Will and Cecil. It turns out to lead down a deeper hole than she could have imagined.
> 
> By the way, this is no longer canon in my fic-verse, but I'm leaving it up because reasons. I actually HC that Lou Ellen finds out about what her father did to Will much earlier, like the September after TOA ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: POTENTIALLY UPSETTING CONTENT BELOW. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. MAYBE TAKE A FEW DEEP BREATHS.
> 
> This deals with a lot of the same stuff as 24, "Will's Private Sickness." I've assumed you've read that before this, but in case you hadn't, I HC that Will lived with Lou Ellen and Cecil in Lou Ellen's father Louis's trailer for a few years following extenuating familial circumstances that basically led to him being abandoned. This seemed like a good thing before Louis was revealed to be a raging pedophile. That's kind of the jist of it, really. Also, something that wasn’t very clear in 24 was that Lou Ellen never knew about what happened. That’s important for this. 
> 
> Trigger warnings for rape mentions, victim blaming, and aftereffects of psychological manipulation. Also mentions of a murder. And some ever-so-slightly misogynistic language. Aaaand self harm. THIS IS HEAVY MATERIAL. DO NOT LOSE SIGHT OF THAT.

“You ever think it’s weird that my dad liked you more than me?”

Will flinched. He looked over to where Lou Ellen was sitting at their table, chewing gum. “I… no, I don’t… I don’t think about your… your dad very much.” 

Lou snorted. “Kind of douchey of you, considering he liked you more than any of us.”

Will’s stomach churned. He looked helplessly over at Cecil, who was sitting next to him, looking back and forth between Lou Ellen and Will. 

“Don’t bully him, Lou,” Cecil chided. “If anything, it’s good that he got over his grief in a healthy way. It’s good that he doesn’t dwell on it.”

Lou squinted at Will. “... Well, not all of us are over everything in no time flat. I guess the care only went one way.”

Will shifted. “Uh… I really have to… I need the… excuse me.” He staggered to his feet and stumbled into the bathroom, flopping heavily on the side of the tub. He put his head in his hands.  _ I can’t tell her. I just can’t tell her. She wouldn’t believe me. I mean, this was her father we’re speaking about. She’d just tell me I was making excuses to dodge the fact that I’m “over it”, which I’m not. I have nightmares at least once a week about some of the shit that he did. Oh, gods, I’ll never be free of this. I’ll never be clean. _

He staggered back to his bedroom, lying down. Nico was out visiting Hazel, so he was alone. He buried his face in the pillow, feeling the tears start to come.  _ She won’t believe you. You know this. No one ever believes men when they say they’ve been touched. She’ll accuse you of seducing him. Maybe I did seduce him. Did I? How did I seduce him? What did I do? Why did he…  _ Will rolled onto his back and grabbed his lighter, lighting it and holding the flame to his calf. He felt the sting of the fire against his skin, watched the honey-blond hair on his leg singe. He shivered.  _ Why did he do it? Why when I was only twelve?  _

_ Why  _ me?

_ Oh, gods, please, just let it all go away. I need a warm pair of hands. I need a safe place to sleep. I need the burn I just put on my calf to stop stinging. I need this to all go away. Go away. Go away. Go away, Louis, let me sleep. I’m very tired.  _ Will choked back a sob.  _ Wrap me in a shroud and let me burn to ashes. I want to sleep forever. Oh, gods, gods. Father, please. Help me. I need it so badly. _

Will sat up. He looked down at his leg. The hair in the spot had all been burned off, the skin underneath was reddened.  _ Okay. Only a tiny little first degree-burn. I’m fine.  _ He felt something drip down his cheek.  _ Oh, gods, I’m crying. Why the fuck am I crying? _

There was a knock at the door. Will wiped his eyes. “What?”

“It’s me,” Cecil yelled through the door. “Let me in.”

“The door’s not locked, wank-ass,” Will yelled. 

Cecil entered the room, sitting down on the side of the bed. “Hey, man, you all right?”

Will looked at Cecil. “... Not really,” he sniffled.

Cecil was quiet for a long time. He patted Will’s shoulder. “... Would you like me to tell her the truth? So you don’t have to?”

Will sniffled.  _ She won’t believe me. She’ll hate me.  _ “... Fine. Do that.”

Cecil nodded. “... Okay. I will.” He patted Will’s shoulder. “I’ll handle her.”

Will gave a tiny nod. He listened as Cecil crossed the room, exiting. He heard nothing for a few minutes. Then, a scream echoed through the apartment and Will broke into harsh sobs. He took a deep breath and stumbled to his door, trying to listen to the conversation outside. He clamped a hand over his mouth, keeping in the tears. 

Lou was screaming. He could hear that much. Finally, her screams died down and she managed the words “... You don’t lie about such things, Cecil.”

“I’m not lying.” Cecil’s voice was absolutely calm. Will peeked out at the scene in the main room. Lou Ellen had her arm pressed into Cecil’s neck, pinning him to the wall. 

“Lou, I know it’s hard to hear, but your father molested him,” Cecil continued. “That’s why they spent so much time together. Not because Louis loved him, but because Louis wanted him sexually. I’m so sorry I have to be the one to break it to you.”

Lou staggered away, sitting down in the nearest chair. “... Kill yourself,” she managed breathlessly. “Kill yourself. Kill yourself for the lies you tell. Just die.” A sob escaped her throat. Will felt a sudden urge to hold her. “Just die.”

“I’m not lying. I told you. I’m not lying. Would you like me to get Will and have him back me up?” 

“I don’t want anything to do with either of your little games,” Lou sobbed bitterly. “If you’re out to defame my father, you can go fuck yourself.”

“Defame? What fame did Louis have to begin with? He was a habitual drunk who lived in a dump of a trailer with three children, two he neglected and one he molested every other day. He. Had. No. Fame,” Cecil hissed. “And I’m sorry for getting angry, but it needs to be said.”

“I’m going to kill you both, and then I’m going to kill myself,” Lou wept. “I don’t want to live if I don’t have a drop of good and correct blood in my body.”

“Lou, this isn’t about…” Cecil sighed. “I’m literally the son of the god of theft and villainy and a hooker. No one’s talking about blood. This isn’t  _ about  _ blood _.  _ I’m not trying to shame you in some way. I just think that… I think you’ve been living with a blindfold on. That Louis, Will and I put there to keep this hush. And I wanted to remove that blindfold. I don’t think it’s good for you to live in a web of lies.”

Lou wiped her eyes. “... I hate you.”

“I know you do. You might hate me for a while. If you want to go away for a while, go back to Camp Half-Blood, I’d understand that. Just… don’t let Will get hurt over this, okay? He’s been hurt enough.”

Lou Ellen staggered to her feet. “Did he put you up to this? As an excuse? My father hurt him, so it’s okay if he’s not grieving? Because if he did, come clean about it now. It’ll be better than trying to come up with an excuse.”

“No, he did not. And if it makes it any better, I saw it happening. I walked in on it before. I saw it with my own two eyes, Lou. I’ve lived with this for seven years. I understand it if you’re mad about this. But don’t you  _ dare  _ call me a liar,” Cecil snapped. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Lou was silent for a long time. Will could hear her crying softly. Finally, she turned, spotting Will. Will didn’t have enough time to fully duck back into his room. “Will!”

Will poked his head out.

“You… you…” She growled, shook her head, gave Will a hateful look, and walked back into her bedroom.

Cecil walked over to Will, pushing into his bedroom and sitting next to him. “I’m sorry, man. I did the best I could. I don’t know if she believed me or not. I think she did, but I don’t know. And… I think she’s deeply upset.”

Will nodded. Tears filled his eyes. “... I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. It wasn’t your fault.” Cecil patted Will’s back. “You’re good, man. You’re good. Lou’s just mad right now. This was… this was pretty traumatic for her. She’ll be mad for a while, I think.”

Will sniffled, wiping his eyes. “... She hates me. I knew it. She hates me.”

“Aw, don’t think like that,” Cecil murmured. He held out his arms. “C’mere. Get a hug. You really need it.”

Will fell hard against Cecil, burying his face in his shoulder. Cecil held him tight as tears poured down his cheeks, dripping into his shoulder. His soul felt like it had taken a direct hit from a poisoned dagger. All he could picture was the hate in Lou Ellen’s eyes as she had left. It was incredibly agonizing.

Cecil gently patted Will’s back, stabilizing himself as he held Will against the misery. “... I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry. It’s… it’s okay. It’ll be okay. You’ll make it, man.”

“Don’t say that,” Will sniffled. “Don’t give me false hope. Just don’t. Please. I love you, man, but I can’t handle it right now.”

“All right. All right. I’m sorry. Well…” He patted Will’s back. “... I’m here. I know it’s not much, but I’m here. And Nico’s here. You’ve got us. And we’ll help you.”

Will closed his eyes, soaking up Cecil’s words, enjoying their tenderness, his warm hands over his back. He wanted to stay there forever, melt into the hold, forget about the pain. Forget about it all. “... Thanks,” he whispered. 

“No prob,” Cecil nodded. He pulled away, leaving a vast aching emptiness in Will’s chest. “Glad to help, dude.”

Will nodded. He wanted to fix Cecil with a smile, but he couldn’t have managed one even if he tried. He sniffled. “... I want Nico.”

“He’ll be home soon,” Cecil reassured. “Probably in less than half an hour.”

Will nodded. He was shivering visibly. 

Cecil could hear his teeth chattering. “... Go to bed, man,” he murmured. “You’re shaking.”

“... Give me a minute,” Will managed hoarsely. He was cold, yes, but he didn’t want to move. Coming out of the little ball he was curled up in would only make him colder. 

Cecil nodded. “Take your time.”

Will slowly staggered to his feet, his knees shaking. He fell hard into bed, face-planting into the pillows. 

After Cecil had watched Will lie half-in and half-out of bed with his face mashed into pillows for a full thirty seconds, he asked “You good, man?”

Will gave Cecil a thumbs-down. 

Cecil snorted. He walked over, grabbed Will’s ankles and forced him fully into bed. 

“... Thanks, dude,” Will managed. He pulled the blankets around himself, shivering. 

“You’re welcome,” Cecil sighed. He heard footsteps behind him and turned. “Oh, hey, Nico.”

Nico looked at Will. “... What’s going on?”

“... He’s not doing so well,” Cecil replied. “Lou Ellen found out about… about what her father did to Will. She got mad.  _ Really  _ mad. And it… Will’s hurting over it. Bad.”

Nico was silent. He looked down at his feet. “... I need the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” he muttered. 

Cecil watched as Nico stalked off towards the bathroom.  _ I hope he’s not too pissed. It wouldn’t be helpful for him to get angry.  _ He took a deep breath and sat down at the edge of Will’s bed, ruffling his blond curls. “... Well, Nico’s home.”

Will nodded, his face pressed against his pillow. 

Cecil wondered if he was trying to pretend his pillow was Nico’s chest. “... Deep breaths, man. We’re gonna… we’re gonna try for you, okay?”

Will turned to face him. A tiny smile graced his lips. “Thanks,” he replied. 

Just then, Nico returned. He pulled off his coat and hung it on the door of the closet. He silently moved over to their bed, crawling over Will (who was lying on his side of the bed) and flopping down. He put his head on the pillow next to Will’s, his dark eyes staring at the ceiling, black voids of rage. “... Why would she get mad at him for this?”

“It’s her father,” Cecil sighed. “No one wants to be told that someone close to them did something that horrible. In a way, it’s like he died all over again.”

Nico was quiet. Then he shook his head. “... It’s senseless,” he muttered finally. “So damn senseless.” His voice broke slightly.

Will turned to face him, putting an arm over him. “Don’t cry,” he managed. “I don’t want you to feel sad for me. I want you to be happy. I want to see you smile.”

“It isn’t right,” Nico growled. “It’s not right that you still suffer for something somebody did seven years ago. It just isn’t.”

Will closed his eyes. “... Sorry,” he whispered.

“Son of a dog, Will! Don’t fucking  _ apologize  _ for this!” Nico snapped. He turned around and grabbed Will in a hug, clutching Will’s head to his chest. “You’re… you’re not at fault here,” he murmured. “Oh, gods, gods, you’re not.”

Will sniffled. “... Shut up,” he whimpered. “Please. Just… be quiet. I love you, but please… please stop.”

Nico nodded. He thought of the way Will must have suffered and felt an immense, thick, sticky ache in his chest. “... I’m sorry,” he murmured. 

“... It’s okay,” Will managed. “I’m not mad.”

Nico was silent.  _ I wish you could get mad. I wish you could get angry. For once I’d like to look in your eyes and see rage. I wish I could see something besides that aching sadness in there. Oh gods. I can see the light in your eyes, the light in your soul, flicker and dim from the pain. It’s so terrible.  _ “... You’re too nice,” Nico murmured, gently twisting his finger through one ringlet curl. 

“... Thanks,” Will murmured. “It’s nice to be nice.”

Nico huffed, pulling away and sitting up, crossing his legs.. “... Look, Will, you can’t just… you can’t just forgive everyone. Especially not someone who’s molested you repeatedly.”

Will sniffled. “I was talking about forgiving you and Lou Ellen. My… my feelings on Louis are… are a little more complicated to say the least.”

“ _ Complicated?  _ Last I checked, hatred wasn’t that complicated of an emotion, Solace.”

“But I… I didn’t hate him,” Will managed, his voice tiny and shaky. “... I mean, he… he said he loved me. How do you hate someone who tells you they love you? I mean, for a long time, I… I loved him. Even though he did bad things to me, I still loved him in a way.”

Nico was quiet. Finally, he patted Will’s head. “I don’t understand you.”

“Didn’t expect you to,” Will mumbled. 

The rest of the day passed quietly. The air in the apartment felt like someone had placed a bomb in the center of the room, ready to blow at the slightest mistake and take the whole of their long and cherished friendship with them. Cecil left Will with Nico. It was getting too painful to stay there and watch Will suffer. His heart was weighted with shame for it, but Will was safe, and that was what mattered. 

Cecil made some cookies. Big squishy ones with lots of chocolate chips. The steady, repetitive task didn’t do much to distract him from his tempestuous emotions. He looked into the batter and all he saw was Louis on top of an unconscious Will. It almost made him drop his whisk. 

He quickly put the cookies in the oven and stared at the kitchen tile.  _ Oh, gods, I’m so scared. I’m gonna fuck this up somehow and then either Lou’s going to leave or she and Will are going to have some massive fucking incident and then… what? Are we just… done? She and Will and I have been… I mean, we’re like everything to each other. How the fuck am I gonna deal if she goes? We’ve been friends since birth. She and I literally shared a cradle. If she leaves, I lose a part of my soul. _

_ And if Will goes, he and Nico go together. I don’t only lose two friends, I lose a fucking brother. I’m busting my fucking ass for this kid. I’m working four to midnight five days a week as a dishwasher to put this kid through college. He’s one of my best friends. I mean, how the fuck should I deal with this? I could lose my best friends! _

_ Okay. What would Travis do? How would he handle this? He’s good at comforting people. Maybe I should call him. Nah, he said he was going to a party tonight. Frankly, though, he’s probably only going to pick people’s pockets. Either that or to get some snatch. I don’t know why he still goes to parties when he’s got Katie. I mean, if I had a girl like Katie, I’d just keep her in my bed full-time. Quit my job, spend all my time sticking it in. Man, that’d be nice.  _

_ I’m off-topic. How the fuck am I gonna deal with this? Do I try to talk Lou down again? I’ve got ten minutes before the cookies are done. Oh, shit, right.  _ He set his egg timer.  _ That’s better. Gods, I remember stealing that thing out of the trailer once the pigs had gone and condemned it. That’s where I found the bullet Louis shot himself with. Damn thing went all the way through his skull. Guess I can’t blame the pigs for condemning a trailer someone killed himself in.  _ He touched the bullet he’d suspended on his camp necklace, then looked affectionately at the egg timer, which still bore an impact hole from the bullet.  _ I should just carry the egg timer around with me all the time. Thing’s a good luck charm. _

_ … Yeah, I should talk to Lou.  _

Cecil sighed. Nine and a half minutes on his egg timer. Yeah, that was enough time to talk down an angry, grieving person, right?

He knocked on the door of his and Lou’s shared bedroom. No response. He tried again. Still, no response. He placed his finger on the knob. A simple lock mechanism. When the button was pushed in, the latch wouldn’t move, and the door wouldn’t open. He focused and the button moved with a soft  _ pop.  _ “I’m comin’ in,” Cecil announced. “Wear some pants.”

Still no response. Cecil entered. Lou Ellen was lying in her bed. Her eyes were closed. Cecil took a deep breath, combing his fingers through his hair. “Lou. Are you awake?”

Lou opened an eye. “What the fuck do you want?”

Cecil couldn’t help but notice the backpack full of clothes by the side of her bed. “... Are you leaving?”

“... Where the fuck would I go?” Lou’s voice was deadpan. “Seriously, where? I don’t have plane ticket money. I can’t drive. I can’t get to camp. Where the fuck would I go?”

“... You’re pretty persistent,” Cecil said. “If you really wanted to get out of here, you could. Also, you know Travis could get you out if you needed, and he’s closer to camp. Besides, Miranda lives like, a block from here.”

“... Sherman hates my guts,” Lou huffed. “It’d just be awkward.”

Cecil shrugged. “I guess.”

“You want me to leave?” Lou asked. “Is that why you’re asking? Because if you want me gone, if you think just because we have the same blood and the same genes means I’m as “evil” as him or whatever, then yeah, I can get out of here. Miranda can lend me some of her flower-selling money and I can get back to camp.”

Cecil took a deep breath. “... I… no, Lou. I don’t want you to leave. I don’t think you’re evil. I don’t think the sins of the father transfers to the child. Even Will doesn’t think that. Don’t worry about it.”

Lou sniffled. “... I should leave.”

“... Don’t,” Cecil asked. “Please don’t.”

Lou gave Cecil a hateful look. “Why in the fuck do you still want me around? I was the one who found Will, remember? I was the one who brought him home, remember? I was the one who begged Louis to let him stay, remember?” Lou gasped violently. _ “Remember?” _

Cecil was quiet. “... Lou, it’s… it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known that Louis would do that. He was so good at keeping it a secret. I mean, even I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t caught him on top of Will.”  _ That’s the pain of being sneaky. You see things you were never meant to see. _

Lou didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, she said “... He showed me a dead girl. I remember. He showed me her body. Said he’d found it in the pond behind the abandoned mansion. I bet… I bet he killed her.”

“How old was the girl?” Cecil asked.

“Real young. Like… elementary school young. I remember thinking it was weird because she… her hair wasn’t wet. Long hair stays wet for a long time. And now I think I know why. He… he…” Lou sniffled. “God knows what he did to that kid before he killed her.”

“... I don’t think I want to know, either.”

“I don’t know why he showed me the body. Maybe he felt bad. I don’t know. I… oh, gods. I should have known he was… I should have known so long ago.”

“Don’t feel bad. He swore everyone to secrecy. I mean, Will was… he was  _ terrified  _ about people finding out. I mean, we’re two of four people who ever knew.”

“No, I mean… I mean… I’m remembering something he said, now. He… he asked me… he asked me if I thought she was beautiful. The dead girl, I mean. And I remember that his… his eyes were so dark when he said that. I thought he was gonna do something bad to me if I answered wrong. I think I… I think I just said something like ‘well, it’s a dead body’ and he kind of just shrugged and shooed me out of the shed. I always thought that was kind of weird, but now… if what you said is true…”

“It’s horrifying?”

“Horrifying’s an understatement,” Lou agreed. 

“Is that incident why you’re not…”

“Calling you a liar? Yeah. I mean… the more I think, the more it makes sense. He was with Will all the time. Every Friday, I remember.”

“And what did he tell you he was doing?” Cecil asked.

“Helping Will with his English homework. I remember wondering why he didn’t do it for me. Now I… now I think I know why,” Lou Ellen muttered bitterly.   
Cecil snorted. He shifted his feet. “Yeah. Look, Lou, you have no idea how glad I am that he didn’t do anything to you. I mean, he didn’t, right?”

“Unless he did something when I was sleeping, no. And if he did, he was so careful that I never knew, and he left no trace.”

“Thank gods for that,” Cecil murmured. “Seriously, I’m so glad.”

Lou nodded. “... I’m glad too.” She sat up, blinking slowly. 

“... Are you ready to talk to Will? I think you… I think you really hurt his feelings.”

Lou took a long, deep, slow breath. “... No. I don’t think I am. I’m sorry. I’ll do it soon, I promise. I won’t leave.”

“... Thanks,” Cecil sighed. He heard his egg timer ding. “I gotta go. I’ve got cookies in the oven.”

  
  
  
  


It wasn’t until midnight that Lou Ellen actually left their bedroom. She exited silently, like a ghost, settling at the table where Will had curled up to eat, finally, after hours of Cecil trying to coax food into his mouth. 

Will looked at her like she wasn’t quite real. “... Lou? Are you… are you still mad?”

Lou didn’t respond for a very long time. Finally, she put a small kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight, Will. Get some good sleep. Don’t have nightmares.”

“... Goodnight, Lou.”  _ … I guess that means we’re good? I don’t know.  _ “I love you. Sleep well.”

Lou looked at him for a long time. There was nothing in her eyes. No malice or hatred, but no love either. Only glassiness. “... I love you too.”

“... Before you go to bed, just tell me, are you still mad? I don’t sleep well if I’m worried my friends hate me,” Will managed.

_ Brave kid,  _ Cecil thought.  _ He’s always been so brave.  _

“... We’re okay,” Lou managed. “Don’t worry about it.”

“... Okay. I won’t. Just… just know that I’m not mad at you or anything, okay? I’m not even really mad at Louis. I don’t think… I don’t think you’re evil or anything. I don’t even think Louis was evil. Don’t worry about me being mad.”

Lou gave Will a very long look. “... I won’t. Look, Will, I need… I need more time to think. I hope you’ll understand why.”

“I understand,” Will said. “Just… do you… do you… believe… me?”

Lou Ellen pursed her lips. “... Yes.

“Yes, Will, I believe you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hundredth fucking drabble. I literally never could have predicted that this doc would reach this point. It also reached 10,000 hits a little while ago, and 300 kudos as well. This has literally been the most influential thing I've ever done. I'm so thankful to those who read most or all of these, and those who regularly leave kudos and comments on my work. 
> 
> I know some of these have been hit or miss for some of you, and I'm sorry for that, but thank you for putting up with the ones that got repetitive, or had ships you hated, or were boring or inappropriate or edgy or stupid or whatever. It means a lot to me.


	97. Percabeth-Don't Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy has a really bad dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for nightmares. There's not too much heinous stuff in this, it's just angsty.

_"Percy.”_

_The voice was gentle, but Percy’s feelings were not. He ran his fingers over the knuckles of the limp hand he held in his own and closed his eyes. “... What?”_

_“We have to take her away now.”_

_Percy looked up. Will was kneeling somewhat in front of him, barely visible in the dim light of the Big House basement. “... Why?”_

_“We have to… hold the funeral,” Will managed._

_Percy squoze her limp hand tighter. He followed the hand he held with his eyes, traced up the arm to the point where it was covered by the grey silk of the shroud. He reached out and traced a finger over the owl of Athena emblazoned on the fabric, feeling the topography of her body, the way he’d done so many times before. “... I can’t let her go,” he whispered. “If I go, she’s… alone.” His voice broke, he kissed her cold, ashen fingers, trying to draw strength. “She’ll… she’ll be scared.”_

_Will put a hand on his knee. Normally, Percy would have flinched from the gesture, but now he was thankful for the touch. “... She’s beyond fear, now,” Will murmured. “She’s safe. I promise you, she’s safe. Where she is, she’s safe and happy. Not scared.”_

_Percy thought back to when they had first fallen in the Labyrinth, the way she’d grabbed his hand. He remembered the way she’d squeezed him as they’d fallen into Tartarus, so much fear in that clutch. He remembered the strength of her grip, her fingers tight around his. “But… but…”_

_“... I’m sorry, Percy,” Will murmured, gently patting his knee. “She can’t stay here. You know that. She’s gone. I’m so sorry.”_

_Percy closed his eyes again. He felt a tear trace down his cheek. He leaned down, releasing her hand, embracing her body through the silk shroud for the last time, letting his tears soak into her lifeless shoulder, one last time. “... I love you,” he whispered, his voice tiny. “I know you can’t hear me, but I love you.” He took a deep breath. “... Wait for me. I won’t be long, I promise.” He sat up, looking over at Will. “May I… may I carry her? When we take her to be… put to rest?”_

_“Of course,” WIll murmured. “Although Chiron might have wanted to take her himself, I don’t know.”_

_Percy nodded. “... When are we…”_

_“Now. Nico’s got the fire going. Everyone’s there but me and you and her.”_

_Percy silently picked up Annabeth, cradling her in his arms for the last time, squeezing her gently. “... I love you,” he couldn’t help but whisper. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t save you.”_

_“It wasn’t your fault. You and she were at opposite ends of the trireme. There was no way you could get to her in time. It isn’t your fault she drowned.”_

_Percy squeezed his eyes shut. He shook his head. He stood up, holding her to his chest. Her body felt like clay in his arms, heavy, cold. He never bothered to respond to Will. He kept his eyes shut until they reached the amphitheater, his legs barely able to move. His knees shook. His world felt hazy, as if without Annabeth, nothing truly existed._

_Will gestured to put Annabeth down in the amphitheater. Every fiber of Percy’s being ached at the thought of putting the love of his life down on that cold, hard, unforgiving ground. He lay her down with the utmost care, then balled up his sweatshirt and put it under her head as a makeshift pillow. “... I love you,” he whispered, wanting to say it one last time before everything was gone. He pulled the shroud back just enough to put a soft kiss on her cold forehead, biting back sobs, his lips trembling against that cold clay. He kept his eyes nearly shut as he stumbled to a seat a little away from the bulk of the campers. He didn’t want to be near anyone. He didn’t need their sympathy._

_He only barely registered as Malcolm said a few words, something about her being a lovely sister, girlfriend, soldier, etcetera. Something about her being strong. Percy couldn’t hear it over the screaming in his head. He didn’t want her to be a soldier. He only wanted her to be there, cradled in his arms, smiling, happy, safe, whole,_ alive… 

_His chest compressed hard, jerking. He clamped a hand over his mouth as harsh sobs began to break from his lips. Oh, gods. She was gone. His Wise Girl was really gone. She wasn’t coming back. He’d never hold her again. He’d never kiss her again. They’d never cuddle again, her arms around his waist, her head pressed to his chest. He’d never breathe in the scent of her hair again, that sweet lemon soap. It was all gone. Disappeared. Going up in the acrid smoke of the pyre. His heart felt like it was being twisted, torn in half._ He _was being torn in half. Half of his soul had been stolen from him, and it was his fault. He looked up and started, his muscles jerking painfully._

_The pyre was burning a brilliant blue._

_Percy couldn’t take his eyes off of it. Plumes of cyan leapt off a cobalt base, painting the dark sky in a cool light. He stared and stared as tears flooded down his cheeks, as he trembled and trembled, as sobs racked his chest, stealing his breath. He was too far away to feel her last warmth, the warmth of her pyre, but it burned in his favorite color. Almost like she was reaching for him somehow. It hurt Percy like another stab to the chest. He had to force himself not to jump up and run for her, grab her from her pyre._ She’s not in there anymore. She’s gone. You know those flames only react to emotion. They’re blue because everyone’s sad.

_Percy lay his face in his hands and wept._

_He felt soft hands on his arms, looking up, nobody was there._ Annabeth, _he thought._ That’s her touch. Her hands. Oh, gods. _He hiccuped, sobbing harder._

_“Percy?”_

That’s her voice. That’s _her_ voice. _“No… no…” Percy gurgled. “Please, don’t torment me like this…”_

_“Percy, wake up!”_

  
  
  


Percy jerked. He gasped, feeling wetness running on his cheeks. He was totally breathless, flat on his back, looking up at the water-damaged ceiling of his bedroom. His eyes hurt from the sudden awakening, he wanted to close them again, but he couldn’t bear to see those cobalt flames. 

A soft hand brushed over his cheek. “... You were crying in your sleep.”

Percy looked over. With the morning sun in her hair, Annabeth looked like a proper angel. Percy couldn’t contain himself anymore. He sobbed hard, lunging for her, grabbing her around her waist, her flesh soft under his grip. He pulled her on top of him, burying his face in her shoulder. He couldn’t say anything. He didn’t _want_ to say anything. He only wanted to feel her. 

“... Must have been a really bad one, then,” Annabeth murmured as soon as she got her bearings. She moved so that they were lying on their sides, easing Percy’s head into her chest. She ran her fingers over his neck, feeling the stickiness of his sweat. “Well… it isn’t real. Don’t worry.”

“... You’re okay,” Percy wept. “You’re okay.” 

_Oh. That’s what this is about. Something happened to_ me. “Yeah. I’m okay, Seaweed Brain. I’m okay.”

“... In the… the dream, I… I… you died. We were in the trireme at Camp Half-Blood and it… it sank and… and I couldn’t get to you in time and… and you drowned. And I… I carried you to your funeral pyre, and… and I was so scared that you were… you were cold and alone and afraid somewhere,” Percy’s voice broke again. “... It just… it hurt.”

“... I bet it did,” Annabeth murmured.

Percy took a moment to listen to her heartbeat, her breath, her voice. He soaked up the feeling of the vibrations of her voice in his cheek, reveled in her everything, warm, safe, _alive._ “... Yeah,” he murmured once he could control his emotions. “And… I’m sorry for… for getting all misty in front of you. I… it was so vivid that… I really thought… when I woke up, I was a little…”

“Overwhelmed?” Annabeth suggested. 

“That’s a good word for it,” Percy agreed. “Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Annabeth reassured, stroking a soft hand over his back, raising little goosebumps in its wake. “Everyone gets overwhelmed from time to time, especially in the wake of such a bad dream. Just relax. I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

“It’s okay,” Percy sniffled. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you didn’t mean it, I know that of you.”

“Of course,” Annabeth murmured. She kissed his forehead, wishing to press comfort directly into his troubled mind. “You know me so well, Seaweed Brain. You’re so sweet.”

Percy’s ears reddened. “... Thanks.”

Annabeth ran her fingers through his hair. Percy relaxed into the touch. _She’s all right. She’s here. She’s warm and alive. Her heart still beats. It’s such a beautiful sound. I want to cry. I want to cry so hard. Oh, my love, my love…_ “I love you, you know that?” Percy murmured, his voice shaking. 

“I love you too,” Annabeth murmured. “Take a deep breath. You’re all right. Here, do you want me to get you some water?”

“... No. Just… please, stay with me,” Percy begged. “I… I’ll be okay. Please just… please, I need you.” His voice cracked helplessly. “I’m sorry.”

Annabeth chuckled softly. “Don’t get upset. I won’t go anywhere if you don’t want me to.”

Percy took a deep breath, sniffling. “... I… I’m sorry.”

Annabeth stroked his hair as gently as she could. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. You’re upset. I understand. I have nightmares too. It’s okay.”

Percy nuzzled Annabeth’s chest. “... Thanks,” he whispered. “Thanks. I love you so much. I do. Oh, gods, oh, gods, I’m so glad you’re not hurt. I’m so glad it was only a dream. I’m so glad.”

Annabeth kissed the top of his head. “I love you too. I’m glad I’m okay too.”

Percy nodded. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of her body against his, feeling pangs of pure warmth and love pulse through his being. “Thanks,” he murmured. “Thanks for being here. Thanks for putting up with me. Just… thanks for everything. You’re an angel.”

Annabeth laughed softly. “You’re welcome, Seaweed Brain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do love these two. I think they might be my favorite ship in the series.


	98. Percabeth-Insecure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth is insecure. Percy helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real warnings. Just what's in the summary.

“Should I dye my hair?” Annabeth asked suddenly, looking into the mirror in she and Percy’s bedroom. 

“... Uh.” Percy tried to picture Annabeth as anything other than blonde and felt his heart sink. “Do you want honesty?”

“Sure. Do your worst,” Annabeth responded.

“I would fucking hate that.”

Annabeth snorted. “Well, I did ask you to do your worst.” She flopped down heavily in the bed beside Percy. 

“Why did you want to dye your hair in the first place?” Percy asked. “Not hating, but I’m just curious. I mean, if it’s just that you need a change, we could do something short-term. My mom knows how. She dyes out the gray in her hair, you know.”

Annabeth shrugged. “No one likes blonde chicks for anything but porn. They think they’re all stupid.”

“Is that how you think people look at you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I’ve literally never seen anybody look at you that way,” Percy replied. “Most everyone I see interacting with you treats you with at least some level of respect. I think the only person who looks at you like that is you.”

Annabeth was quiet. “... Still, I can’t help but wonder, you know?”

Percy shrugged. “I guess. But all I’m saying is, I don’t see it. I think you just took some dumb jokes to heart. I’ve never seen anyone treat you any different because of hair color. If I were you, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, stroking her hair gently. “Besides, I think your hair is beautiful. I think it makes you look like a princess.”

Annabeth turned away, but not before Percy got a glimpse of the deep blush on her face. “... Shut up.”

“Just saying, I wouldn’t worry.”

Annabeth turned back, giving Percy a kiss on the lips. “You’re too sweet.”

“... Thanks. One last thing: don’t worry about the jokes. Every conceivable group of humans has some joke people make about them. Don’t worry about it.”

“... I hate it when you’re right,” Annabeth grumbled. “... All right. I’ll work on it.”

Percy smiled at her. “Thanks. I think that would be good for you.” He leaned in, stroking her hair some more, studying the tiny bluish flecks in her gray eyes. “... I never knew you were insecure about that. I wish you would have told me sooner.”

Annabeth shrugged. “It doesn’t come up much. It was just never relevant.”

Percy focused on an almost perfectly circular blue fleck in her right eye. “... I just… I don’t… I don’t want you to suffer.”

Annabeth’s cheeks warmed beneath Percy’s hands. “... Thanks. I don’t… I don’t want you to suffer either.”

Percy closed the gap, giving her a small kiss before leaning his forehead against hers. “Thanks.” He let himself linger there for a moment, enjoying the warmth of her body against his. Finally, he pulled away, patting her knee. “Now, no more self-deprecating. Everyone likes you. Or is scared of you. One of the two. Either way, you’ve got people’s respect. I wouldn’t be too worried about the color of your hair as it relates to your image.”

Annabeth gave Percy a small smile. “... Thanks. I think… I needed to hear that.”

Percy grinned. “No problem, Wise Girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's canon that Annabeth is insecure about this. It was in MOA.


	99. Chrisse- "All Right, Fuckers, I'm Back."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarisse is concerned about Chris. Travis confirms her fears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not uploading for, like, a week. Somebody said that they really like the content I write with Ares kids, so expect a bit more of them.
> 
> Anyway, brief mentions of violence. Nothing that's not Ares-kid typical. Also, incredibly slight homophobia. Only if you think that someone saying a certain character isn't gay is homophobia. And frankly, if you do think that is homophobia, you probably didn't make it this far in the doc.
> 
> Also, the standard Weezl warnings: swearing, sexual innuendoes, just general T-rated language.

“... And in conclusion, that’s why Tails from ‘Sonic’ is _not_ gay, and why anybody who thinks he is doesn’t deserve rights,” Sherman concluded. 

His unattentive half-siblings stirred as if waking from a slumber. “... Right,” Clarisse yawned. “That’s fascinating, Sherman. Thank you so much for sharing.”

“You’re welcome,” Sherman replied self-righteously. “I’m glad you could see the truth.”

“Yeah.” Clarisse absently hauled herself into her bed, curling up in her cloak. She closed her eyes. Her mind drifted to Chris. He’d seemed a little high-strung earlier, and she felt as if she shouldn’t be worried about it, but she was. Whenever Chris seemed even the tiniest bit off, she worried. After all, Chris had had pretty severe mental issues in the past. She didn’t know if she could handle it if he went crazy again. 

She thought back to the tenseness in the corners of his mouth, the way he had had his arms crossed across his chest like he was holding himself. He hadn’t even bothered to crack any jokes at dinner earlier, something he normally loved to do. And to top it all off, he’d skipped campfire. He _loved_ campfire. It was all very abnormal. 

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Clarisse heard Ellis get the door somewhere in the background-- _anything_ to avoid listening to Sherman’s video game conspiracy theories--and rolled over to listen a little closer. She was head counselor, after all. 

“Fuck you want, Stoll?” Ellis snapped. 

“I wanna talk to your sister. She in?”

“Why the fuck would you want to talk to her?” Ellis snorted.

“It’s about her boyfriend. Where is she?”

Ellis sighed. “Clarisse? Stoll wants to talk to you. Apparently it’s about Chris.”

Clarisse yawned and wiped the fog out of her eyes. She sat up, ducking to avoid the ceiling that was a mere two or three feet above her top-bunk bed. “All right, all right. I’m fucking coming. Gimme a goddamn minute.” 

Ellis rolled his eyes and tried to meet Sherman’s, which were closed contentedly in the aftermath of his rant. He sighed and sat down on the side of his bed. “All right.”

Clarisse crashed down out of her bed, her feet hitting the floor with a resounding thud. “All right, fuckers, I’m back.” She stabbed her feet into her boots, leaning heavily against the doorframe. She glared into Travis’s wide brown eyes. “Fuck you need?”

Travis blinked. “... Uh. Yeah. It’s about Chris. He’s… He went to sleep early, like he normally does. Before campfire, even. Which wasn’t the abnormal part, he did say he was tired, but...”

Clarisse nodded. “And? Get your shit together, Stoll.”

“He woke up crying and shouting a few moments later. I went to go make sure he was okay and he just recoiled away from me. Just seemed scared as hell.” Travis shifted nervously. “I thought maybe you might be able to help.”

Clarisse puffed her cheeks. “First item of business: get him out of that cabin. Being in a dark enclosed space won’t help if the problem is what I think it is.” She pushed past the slender Travis and stormed towards the Hermes cabin. “You’re gonna need to help me haul him out. He’s my size and pretty hard to carry. I can do it, but it’ll suck.”

Travis nodded. “All… all right! At your service.”

“And don’t try to be chivalrous with me. I don’t want to hear it. Not now,” Clarisse snapped. She pushed her way in, meeting the eyes of each Hermes kid in turn before moving to Chris in his corner bed. He was curled up in the fetal position with his back pressed to the wall. “Chris?” she murmured. “Can you hear me?”

Chris didn’t look at her. His eyes were half-open, totally glazed over. Clarisse could see a small shine of water on his nose and temples. He’d been crying. “... Uuuuh.”

“... I’m gonna get you out of here, okay? Would you like that?”

Chris gave a long, slow, blink. “... I… don’t hurt me.”

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” she whispered. She turned to Travis. “Yeah, we’re not gonna get anywhere with him until he’s outside. You get the legs, I’ll get his upper arms.”

Travis nodded. He grabbed Chris’s legs. 

“Don’t… don’t hurt me!” Chris wailed. “Please! I… I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Clarisse held his upper half. She felt an empty ache in the pit of her chest and took a deep breath, trying to fill it with any amount of anything she could manage. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you. I promise. Swear on the Styx.” 

Chris whimpered. They hauled him out of the cabin. Clarisse sank to the ground behind the cabin, pulling him against her body. “... Yeah,” Clarisse murmured. “I wish I had known about this trick when he was… gone. Maybe I could have restored him without Dionysus.”

“... Well, he’s restored, so…” Travis shifted his feet. “... don’t worry.”

Clarisse shrugged. “... Thanks.” 

Chris whimpered slightly. She eased his head into her shoulder. “Shh, shh. It’s okay. See? You’re outside. You’re not there anymore. You’re safe.”

“... I…” Chris took a deep breath, seemingly smelling the air. A shudder passed through his body. “... Risse?”

“Yeah,” she murmured. The tension in her muscles suddenly released and she flopped her head heavily into his shoulder. “Yeah. It’s me.”

Chris put his arms around her, slowly, like he was coming up out of a dream. “... I… I’m so… fuck. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“... That’s my boy,” she whispered. “Oh, gods, Chris.”

Chris took another deep breath, trying to hold the sweet, vaguely earthy scent of the outside air in his lungs for as long as possible. It may have been sticky and humid in the summer, but it tasted like freedom and sanity. “... What… what happened? I… I… I don’t remember anything.”

“Travis told me you woke up crying and recoiled when he tried to help.” Clarisse looked around for Travis, but he wasn’t there. “Guess that little rat wandered off. Well, just trust me on it.”

“I do. And don’t call him a rat. He’s a good guy once you get past the bullshit,” Chris defended. 

“You mean the relentless kleptomania and the irritating personality?”

“Yeah, that bullshit.”

Clarisse laughed. “Dammit. Don’t make me laugh. I’m supposed to be comforting you.”

“... Thanks.” Chris shifted his hips slightly, trying to make himself slightly more comfortable. “I dunno. You’re warm and soft, and it’s kind of nice out here. I’m… it feels… _real_ out here. I don’t know.”

Clarisse put a kiss in the crease of his neck, felt the stickiness of his new sweat against her lips, and vowed not to do it again. “... Well, I’m glad it feels so good.”

Chris let his eyes fall shut, trying not to see the endless twisting tunnels of the Labyrinth. “... Mm.” He let himself linger against Clarisse for another moment. Her arms felt pleasantly sturdy around his body. He had the sudden realization that that was why he loved Clarisse, she was stable in a way he’d never been, sturdy in a way nobody had ever seemed to him, and honest in a way not too many people in his life were. “... Yeah. I… I love you, okay? You… you don’t deserve to have to do this for me every other day. It… it’s not fair.”

Clarisse squeezed him slightly. “Nah. I don’t mind. I’m happy that I can pull you out of these things. I’d rather I know about it than the alternative.”

Chris was quiet. “... Just… tell me if it gets tiring, okay?”

Clarisse didn’t know how to express the burning, aching heat in her ribs. “... Don’t worry about it, okay? Put your mind at rest. For tonight, just try and relax. I’m here.”

Chris nodded. He closed his eyes, trying not to worry. “... Thanks.”

Clarisse stroked his hair. She tried to remember a time when he didn’t have these nightmares, didn’t flinch at shadows, wasn’t uneasy in basements. She remembered how he’d clutched at her hand when he went back to his mother’s apartment post-insanity, practically shaking as his mother joyfully called him down into her basement dwelling. She’d never forget the fear in his eyes as he looked down at the one thing he should have been beyond joyful to see. 

He’d snuck up into her grandmother’s apartment later that day only to break down in her arms.

Finally, Chris stirred. “... Unnnh. My back’s getting sore.”

Clarisse chuckled. “... Yeah. My ass went numb fifteen minutes ago.”

Chris pulled away, sitting up in full. “Sorry about that.”

Clarisse sat up, reaching out to cup his cheek. She ran one of her calloused thumbs over his cheekbone. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I don’t give enough of a shit. I’m just glad you came around so quick.”

“... Thanks for bringing me around,” he murmured, cupping his hand over hers. “... I… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, you’d probably just have wandered around the suburbs of Phoenix until you died of something, were arrested or got institutionalized,” Clarisse reasoned. “So you’re welcome.”

Chris laughed. “Uh… thanks, I guess.”

Clarisse pinched his cheek slightly. “Don’t worry about it. Now, are you calm enough to sleep?”

Chris yawned. “Yeah. I’m better. I’m… I’m sorry. For being a pussy. You deserve a better man.”

“The word _femdom_ exists for a reason, Rodriguez.” Clarisse patted his other cheek, then pulled her hands away. “Now go to bed. I can tell you’re tired.”

Chris rubbed his eyes, standing up. “Yes, _Mother,_ I will.”

Clarisse stood up. She put a small kiss on the corner of his lips. “Good boy.” She stretched, jogging in place for a second to wake up her thighs. “I gotta go back to the cabin now. I don’t trust the boys to wipe their own asses right, much less keep the cabin standing.”

“You should have more faith in them,” Chris nagged. “They’re good boys. Sort of.”

“Key words _sort of,_ ” Clarisse huffed. “When they’re not beating each other with bricks, lighting torches using gas they bought from _your_ brothers, who they claim not to even like, or trying to stake me in my sleep to see whether or not I feel pain…”

“Wait, what was that last one?”

“Yeah,” Clarisse snorted. “They stabbed me in the ribcage because there’s some theory going around that I don’t feel pain. Well, they got their answer when I woke up screaming. Fucking assholes. Anyway, it turned out fine. Will said I can get the stitches out in two days or so. And it didn’t go that deep. But now I’m gonna have another damn divot in my chest from the scar. But if you’re fine with it, then it doesn’t matter.” She turned to walk back to the Ares cabin.

“Well… I’m glad you’re okay,” Chris managed, running up and taking her hand. “Also, I can’t fucking believe they’d do something like that. You’re their sister.”

Clarisse shrugged. “Eh. They’re Ares kids. It’s in their blood. And it’s not like I haven’t done terrible things to them.” She pulled Chris to the door of the Hermes cabin, opening it. “Goodnight, my boy.”

“Is he feeling better?” called Travis from the inner darkness of the cabin.

“Yeah, I am,” Chris returned. He leaned in and kissed Clarisse’s lips. “Night, tough girl. I love you.”

“... Love you too,” Clarisse murmured. She watched as Chris retreated into the cabin, closing the door. She puffed her cheeks. She never knew what to do when she was kissed. It was terrible. 

She sighed, shaking her head. Well, at least Chris was okay, even if he’d never fully be over what Kronos had done to him. And the harpies hadn’t messed with them, even though they were a little past curfew. So it was all okay, right? 

She pushed her way through the barbed wire into the Ares cabin. Sherman was talking. “... And in _Heroes,_ he says, quote, ‘He was my best friend, I can’t believe he’s really gone,’ therefore Sonic and Tails are _just_ friends, and nothing more.”

_Oh, sweet mother of Zeus._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think I might have done something similar to this a while back. Maybe even two or three different times. Anyway, that's one of the reasons I haven't been uploading so often. I'm nearly out of original ideas.
> 
> To get some, who do y'all ship Ellis with? If anyone? I hear some people ship him with Cecil Markowitz, but I don't like that one as much, only because I like Loucil better. What other ships are there for this guy? I won't do any brother-sister, brother-brother, mother-son, or father-son shit. Don't make people accuse this series of more incest than they already do. Other than that, all ships are fair game.


	100. Sheranda- Sexy Nurse Outfit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherman's got something he wants to talk to Miranda about. Miranda's always willing to comfort him.
> 
> Kinda plotless tbh, it's just a random spur of the moment idea I had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of violent behavior, but nothing too bad. For content with Ares kids, this is pretty tame.

“Do you think less of me because I’m not a head counselor?” 

Miranda looked up from where she was watering a strawberry bush. Sherman was standing a bit to her left, his hands in his pockets, his head down. “... Why do you ask?”

Sherman shrugged. “I… I don’t know. I was just wondering.”

Miranda straightened. She scanned his face. He was stonefaced as always, but Miranda could see a small twitch in the corner of his eye. “... No,” she replied, putting on her most reassuring voice. “I don’t think less of you. Don’t worry about it.”

Sherman made eye contact with her. His sharp dark eyes held more vulnerability than she’d ever seen them hold. “... Thanks,” he whispered. “I…” He shifted a little, focusing on her shoes, a pair of dirty red sneakers. “I think I needed to hear that.”

Miranda smiled. She kissed the corner of his mouth. “You’re welcome.”

The corner of Sherman’s mouth twitched up. “You’re too sweet,” he murmured. “I don’t quite know how to express how grateful I am for you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Miranda soothed. “You don’t need to try and talk if you don’t know what to say. I understand what you’re getting at.”

Sherman nodded. “Thanks. It means a lot.” He shifted, looking back down. “Well… uh… I need to go now. Clarisse and I were gonna spar.”

Miranda leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Be careful with yourself. Clarisse is brutal in a fight.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m aware,” Sherman laughed. “I’ve seen her fight. She’s an animal.”

Miranda thought for a second. “Maybe I’ll watch. You know, cheer on the winner and tend to the loser.”

“Mm. Maybe I’ll lose, then,” Sherman murmured amorously. “Get tended to a bit.”

Miranda pinched him. “I am  _ not  _ your sexy nurse.”

Sherman pouted. “Why not?”

Miranda laughed. “Oh, you. I swear to gods, I’m gonna get Clarisse to kick you in the crotch.”

Sherman snorted. “You knew I was a man when you started going out with me. But seriously, don’t be too worried about the sexy nurse thing. If you’re really not okay with it, I won’t make you. Besides, I don’t even have a sexy nurse outfit. I mean, where would I even get one,  _ Clarisse?” _

“Oh, dear gods,” Miranda laughed. “I love Clarisse, but… no.”

“‘No’ is an understatement,” Sherman scoffed. “I mean, unless disfiguring scars are your kink…”

“That’s someone’s thing and you know it,” Miranda scolded. “Also, I don’t see her as disfigured.”

Sherman shrugged. “That’s one woman’s opinion. Anyway, I  _ really  _ need to get moving. Clarisse needs to fight like other people need to eat. Making her wait only makes her more ravenous. You want her to be as slow and sated as possible when you approach.”

Miranda nodded. “Makes sense. Anyway, I won’t hold you up. You go get ready to spar.” She kissed him again. “Good luck. I’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently people really like the content I make with the Ares kids. It's my most well-reviewed material. Guess I have to make more now.
> 
> Also, I still don't know who to ship Ellis with. One anon suggested Cecil Markowitz, but I don't really see Cecil as being into men. I guess Ellis is gonna remain a bachelor for now, which is okay. Being single isn't so bad as long as you have a decent group of friends.
> 
> Also, comment and leave kudos if you want to see Clarisse in a sexy nurse outfit lmao


	101. Non-shippy- Safe from Treachery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travis can't let his half-brother's treachery injure his loved ones any further. Unfortunately, this means that he, himself, must bear the brunt of the wounds.  
> Hurt/comfort and a crapload of brotherly fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a request fill for Rex88! Thank you so much for requesting! This takes place slightly before TLO. 
> 
> Warnings for slight gore.

Will’s stomach was hurting.

He didn’t exactly know why it was hurting. He assumed it was just the stress of everything that was going on with Kronos. Either way, he needed some room to walk and breathe. He didn’t want to vomit in front of his siblings. It would be too humiliating.

He left the infirmary, breathing in the fresh air. At least that was something he could rely on. Even when the entire world was going into shambles, the air at camp was still sweet to breathe. The sun was still gentle in the way it kissed his skin. The grass was still green, and Thalia’s Tree was still standing proud, right next to… 

_Ah, shit._

A figure was standing stooped next to Thalia’s Tree. Will could see little drops of blood hitting the dirt beneath where it was standing. Will ran towards the figure, which slowly revealed itself to be Travis. Travis was only barely on his feet, hunched over and clutching his stomach. “Travis!” Will grabbed his shoulders. “What the hell happened?”

Travis coughed. He spat a small drop of crimson blood from his lips. “Ugh. I… I got a little… it was just a few… rogues. No big.”

“Rogues as in…”

“Rogue demigods. An Ares kid got me in the gut.”

Will nodded. “Okay. Let’s go. We need to get you to the infirmary. Keep pressure on it. You’re doing real well, okay?” He slung an arm around Travis, encouraging him to lean on his shoulder. 

Travis nodded, leaning heavily on Will. Will gently began pulling him along. His steps were unsteady, tentative. He was breathing heavily, as if even this most minor of exertions was exhausting him to the point of collapse. His knees were shaking badly. 

“... How’re you holding up?” Will asked when they were almost at the steps of the Big House.

“... Mmalright,” Travis slurred. He took two more steps before mumbling out an “... umsurry.” And with that, his legs gave out, and he collapsed into an exhausted heap on the ground. 

Will knelt down, pulling Travis’s head into his lap. He lightly slapped his cheek. “Travis! Travis! Wake up! Come on, man, wake up!”

Travis groaned roughly. “... So tired.”

“I know, man, but you’ve gotta get up,” Will explained. “You can’t just lie here and die. Your siblings need you. You’re their… you’re their _big brother,_ man! You can’t just die!”

Travis gave another groan. 

Will’s heart was pounding. He looked around frantically. They were so close. So fucking close. Will stood up and grabbed Travis under his arms, hooking him. He leaned back, pulling against Travis’s limp body with his whole weight, dragging him slowly. He dragged him up the steps of the Big House, feeling violent cramps shoot through the muscle of his back. He had a nagging feeling in the back of his head that he’d regret this later, but he didn’t care. Travis was what was important. Not him. He was fine. Travis was bleeding hard from his belly.

“CHIRON!” he shouted as soon as he opened the door. 

The trotting of hooves had never sounded so comforting. “What is it, son? Oh, gods!” Chiron bent down over Travis. “... They did a real number on him, I see. Okay. Get him to the infirmary. Here, I’ll help. Sling him over my back,” Chiron ordered.

Will’s stomach sank. Chiron _never_ gave rides. He and Chiron grabbed Travis and hauled him over Chiron’s back. Travis managed another ragged moan. They pulled him into the infirmary, laying him down in the nearest cot. Will reached for his shirt bottom, trying to pull it up to examine Travis’s bleeding gut. Travis raised one shaking hand, touching his wrist.

“... What’s wrong?”

“... Connor,” he wheezed. “Need… Connor.”

Will turned to Chiron. “Where the fuck is Connor?”

“I haven’t a clue, son,” Chiron replied gravely. “How about this. You find Connor. I’ll tend to Travis’s wounds. How does that sound?”

Will nodded quickly. He jumped up and ran from the Big House. Where the hell were the Hermes kids? Where had Cecil said they would be? Cecil always told him where he was at breakfast, just in case he needed him. So why couldn’t he remember it now, when it mattered? Will cursed his mind for failing him when it was most desperate. 

He stuck his head into the swordfighting arena. Clarisse was drilling a few scattered kids. No Hermes kids. Will huffed. Well, they wouldn’t be in the archery range. They probably wouldn’t be out canoeing, not now. Maybe the rock climbing wall?

Will turned and ran for the rock climbing wall. 

He was there in a second. His lungs burned from the exertion. He swore he was going to throw up. Through the haze of exhaustion, he saw a familiar curly brown head. “Connor!”

Connor looked down from where he was perched up on the rock climbing wall. “What?”

“Something terrible happened to Travis!”

Connor raised his eyebrows. He jumped down. “What happened? Is he… where is he?”

“He’s in the infirmary,” Will managed. “Chiron’s with him.”

Connor’s face paled. He nodded stiffly. Connor was off like a shot in the direction of the Big House. Will followed at a slower pace. When Will arrived in the infirmary, Connor was kneeling over Travis. 

Will knelt on Travis’s other side. “... Con-con,” Travis wheezed. “... Con-con.”

“I’m here. What happened?” Connor’s chest ached at the sight of Travis’s face, so pale.

“... Hurts,” Travis managed. “Hurts. In my stomach.”

Connor bit down on his knuckles. “... It’ll be okay,” he managed weakly. “Chiron and Will are gonna get you all better. You’re gonna be okay.”

Travis groaned softly, lifting one shaking hand. He touched Connor’s wrist. “... Con...con.”

Connor laced his fingers through Travis’s, pressing their palms together. “I’m here. I’m here.” He rested their intertwined hands on Travis’s chest. “Don’t be afraid.”

Travis gave his hand a weak squeeze. His eyes fluttered closed. 

Connor looked down. Will and Chiron had rolled up Travis’s shirt, revealing a grisly-looking wound going from just below his right nipple to his belly button. The skin around it was red and puffy, but not greenish. Thank the gods. “... How is he… medically?”

Will looked up. “Well, he’s not poisoned or anything. I think he just lost a lot of blood. We’ll give him some more blood, stitch him up and it’ll be fine. I still don’t know why he was spitting blood earlier, though.”

“He was _spitting blood?”_ Connor asked incredulously.

“Only a little. And it was red, not black, so it didn’t come from the innards. It wasn’t foamy or anything, so it didn’t come from the lungs,” Will reasoned.

“He took a knock to the head,” Chiron revealed. “He’s lost two molars. Teeth 2 and 30.”

“... What?”

“One tooth on top and one on bottom of his right side.”

Connor studied Travis’s face. His right cheek and jaw looked swollen. “... Is he concussed?”

“Perhaps mildly. However, I want to treat the blood loss first. We’ll see how he is after that,” Chiron concluded.

Connor nodded. He kept his eyes trained on Travis’s face, trying his best to ignore Will and Chiron moving around them. _Why did Travis go alone to face that raiding party? He knew there were five of them to his one. Gods damn this arrogant fucker._

_Gods damn him._

Connor watched as Will inserted a line into Travis’s arm, sending blood running into his body. He watched as Travis’s face regained color, watched as Chiron’s expert hands ran a thick, uncomfortable-looking thread through Travis’s skin, binding the wound. Connor silently thanked the gods that Travis had passed out. It would have been too painful to hear him cry out in pain in that raspy voice. 

Connor felt a sudden urge to nest his head on Travis’s chest, hear the beating of his heart, but he fought it back. Yes, he was the little brother, but that didn’t mean he had to _act_ like it. He didn’t need to curl up in Travis’s arms for comfort, especially when Travis needed _him._

He brushed a stray curl off of Travis’s forehead and closed his eyes.

  
  


Travis woke up a few moments later, groaning softly as he came into consciousness. “... Con-con.”

“Present,” Connor replied, squeezing Travis’s hand. Will and Chiron had left a little while ago after giving Travis some nectar and stemming the bleeding in his gums, and it was only himself and Travis.

Travis gave Connor a sleepy smile. “... Hey, man. How’re you?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Connor blurted. “Like, seriously, go fuck yourself. Why the hell did you think you could take on Kronos’s whole-ass raising party by yourself? There were _five_ of them. There’s _one_ of you.”

Travis’s eyes focused on the ceiling. He looked distant, sad. “... I… owe it to everyone.”

“Why?” Connor whispered. “Why did you think you had to do it?”

“... Because. Luke was… my brother too.” He coughed. “Ugh. Will you get me some water?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you some,” Connor nodded. He crossed the room, filling a cup of water from the cooler in the corner. He returned, putting the cup to Travis’s lips. “Here. Drink up.”

Travis’s honey-gold eyes fluttered shut as he drank. He groaned softly. “Mm. Thanks,” he murmured. “You’re the best.”

“Love you too. Now what did you mean by Luke being your brother too?”

“... I… I couldn’t… keep… him here. I couldn’t keep him from defecting. And… we’re blood. He’s my brother. I owe the world to… to protect everyone from him.”

“... Do you blame yourself?” Connor whispered. “For what he did?”

Travis was quiet. He stared at the ceiling. Finally, he gave a small nod. 

Connor brushed his fingers over his forehead, hoping it would soothe him. “... It’s not… it’s not your fault. It’s not. You’re not anything like him. You’ve never hurt anybody. You don’t deserve to shoulder the burden for what Luke did.”

“... Luke has… no remorse,” Travis whispered. “None. I need… I need to… have remorse on his… on his behalf.”

“No you don’t,” Connor replied. “No you don’t. It isn’t your fault. You don’t deserve to hurt for something someone else did. And we’re his half-brothers, not his full-brothers. We’re not blood enough for you to deserve to feel the hurt you’re feeling. I mean, really, Travis, you could have died.”

“... Chris is… our half-brother too. Look at what Luke did to him. No remorse.” Tears jeweled in Travis’s eyes. “No remorse.”

“... Don’t cry,” Connor reassured. He ran his fingers through Travis’s curls. “Yes, Luke is terrible. Or at least he’s terrible now. But you’re not terrible, not really. You’re nothing like Luke. You’re better than him. And you don’t deserve to have to be in pain for the things he’s done.”

A tear ran down Travis’s temple. “... You’re sweet. But… I can’t… I can’t _not_ hurt for what he’s done. I can’t _not_ hurt for the things that have happened. Connor, I know you don’t care, but I… I do.”

Connor looked down. “... You’ve always been a better person than I have.”

Travis didn’t reply. A couple of tears dribbled down his cheek. 

Connor reached out and brushed them away. “... I’m sorry. Don’t cry. This war isn’t your fault. You’re too good of a person to start the kind of shit Luke starts.”

Travis sniffled. “... Thanks.” He squeezed Connor’s hand, blinking back tears. “... I love you, okay? I don’t say it enough. I love you.”

Connor’s face felt warm. “Love you too.” He studied Travis’s face, feeling the distress radiate out of Travis, stab against his heart. He leaned in, taking Travis in a hug, burying his face in the crook of his neck. “... ‘nd ‘m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Travis murmured hoarsely, reaching his arms around Connor’s back, with a little more strength than he’d had earlier. “Not your fault I’m hurting.”

Connor didn’t know what to say. “You shouldn’t even be hurting. It’s not your fault Luke’s doing bad things. You shouldn’t have to try to protect the world from him alone. It’s not fair.”

Travis didn’t respond. He leaned his head a little more into Connor’s shoulder. He took a moment just to enjoy the fact that he and Connor were alive, warm against each other. Sure, the world was ending, but they had each other, and that was what was important, right?

Connor pulled away a moment later. Connor met Travis’s eyes, soft and teary. “... How much does it hurt?”

“... Not much. It’s sore, but it isn’t agonizing. I think… I think they gave me a painkiller.”

“They gave you some Benadryl. That was it. They said it was all they had,” Connor murmured. 

“Can I see the wound?” Travis asked.

“... Sure?” Connor giggled. “I mean, it’s pretty ugly.”

“Even more reason why I want to see it,” Travis said.

“Well, it’s bandaged pretty tightly. I think you should keep your bandages on. You can see the wound when we change the bandages.”

Travis skirted his fingers under his shirt, feeling the rough gauze under his fingertips. “... Ah. That’s why I’m itchy. Explains everything.”

“Come on, man. I don’t want to know that,” Connor groaned. 

Travis chuckled. “Sorry, man.” He awkwardly pushed up a portion of the gauze, managing to scratch under maybe a centimeter of bandage. “It’s just… fuck, I hate bandages. Annoying as shit.”

“No, I get it. We’ll put a smaller sort of bandage on it once you’re out of infirmary,” Connor promised. “Will said you can get out tomorrow morning as long as you promise to rest.”

“... I can’t afford to rest for very long, I don’t think, but I think I can manage a day or two. I’ll take some nectar. I’ll be fine,” Travis reasoned. 

Connor nodded. “All right. That sounds good. And you sound better than you did before, too. I think you’re gonna be okay.” He sighed out, letting himself lean his head into Travis’s chest, warm and soft. He wondered if he could possibly get permission to sleep in the infirmary tonight, not even on a bed, just leaning his head on Travis. 

Travis stroked his hair, putting his free arm around his back. “Yeah. I knew I was gonna be okay. I just… felt weak. That’s why I collapsed. I’m a little better now.”

Connor nodded. “Blood loss. That’s why you were weak. Not enough blood to carry enough oxygen to the brain and muscles to get them to work.”

“Well, aren’t we just a Mr. Smarty Pants,” Travis mumbled. 

“Shut up,” Connor groaned. He closed his eyes, listening to Travis’s heartbeat, steady and sure. 

Travis curled Connor’s hair around his finger. “That’s my Con-con. Always a little brat.”

“Your little brat, still?”

“... Always,” Travis murmured quietly. “Always my little brat.”

  
  
  


Connor slept on Travis’s chest that night.

He didn’t exactly know why he was so driven to be close to Travis, but he was. He wanted--no, _needed--_ to be close to him. He didn’t even know how tense and scared he’d been for Travis until the two were leaving the infirmary the following morning, side-by-side with their knuckles brushing together at every odd step. He felt a sudden urge to grab Travis and hold him, weep into his chest. Oh, gods, he wasn’t in any danger. He was _okay._ Connor felt his sinuses fill. “... Travis?” he managed weakly. 

“Yeah?”

“... I… I was really scared.”

Travis cocked his head, looking over at Connor with concern. “Scared? When?”

“When… when I saw you in that bed… all pale and weak and bloody. That was… I was scared.”

“Were you worried I might die?”

Connor managed a small nod. 

Travis chuckled. He slung an arm around Connor’s waist, and for once, Connor didn’t resist. “Well, I’m not going to die. I’m still a tiny bit concussed, and my mouth still hurts, but I’ll be fine. Nothing I’ve got is lethal. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Connor leaned a little closer to Travis. “... Thanks,” he whispered. 

The walk back was quiet. When they finally arrived at the Hermes cabin, it was to the concerned looks of Chris and Cecil. “Hey, guys,” Travis murmured sleepily. “How are you doing?”

Chris moved towards Travis, grabbing him in a hug. “Hey, Trav. Oh, gods, we’re so much better now that you’re back with us.”

Tears pooled in Travis’s eyes. He buried his face in Chris’s shoulder. “... ‘M sorry, guys, I… I thought I could… I thought I could… fight them off. I was… I was wrong.”

“It’s good,” Chris soothed. “Everyone gets a bit too big for their britches sometimes.”

“Yeah, Trav,” Cecil said, moving in to hug him from the side. “Don’t worry about it. It isn’t your fault you were attacked.”

Travis whimpered. “This entire war is my fault. I… I tried to talk Luke out of leaving. I said it wasn’t worth it. But he didn’t listen to me.”

“Luke didn’t listen to anyone. Even Annabeth and Thalia couldn’t get through to him. Luke made his choice,” Chris murmured. “I don’t think you could change anything.”

“... You know, I never knew Luke. Not personally, anyway,” Cecil mused. “I’m wondering now if that may have been for the better.”

Chris sighed. “... Well… look. He’s my brother. I love--loved?-- love him. But he’s… yeah, it might be better you never had to carry the burden of loving him.”

Cecil nodded. “Might be.”

Travis pulled away from Chris’s embrace, sitting down heavily on Connor’s bed. “... Hey, can you three do me a huge favor?”

“Anything for you, bud,” Cecil responded. 

“Would you go get me some of that gauze padding from the bathroom? And some medical tape? I don’t want… I don’t want to have my full torso in bandages anymore.”

“Very understandable. How big is the wound?” Cecil asked.

“Big,” Connor attested. “I mean, it’s stitched up now, so it’s not bleeding or oozing or anything, but it’s still pretty ugly. Here, let’s take the bandage off. Let him see for himself.”

“Please. It’s _really_ fucking itchy,” Travis groaned. He slipped his shirt over his head.

“Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up.” Connor absently grabbed a pair of scissors from the Hermes cabin hell-closet, taking care not to open it any more than he had to. 

Cecil wolf-whistled. “Damn. That’s a giant bandage.”

Chris gently touched Travis’s bandaged torso. “Does it… does it hurt?”

“Only if you start messing with it,” Travis responded.

Chris retracted his hand. “Oh. I won’t touch it, then.”

“Alright, got the scissors,” Connor huffed. 

Travis nodded, presenting his chest to Connor. Connor slipped the scissors under Travis’s bandages, snipping them off, watching the pieces of gauze float to the ground like so many torn butterfly wings. Travis scratched his chest and belly, only too relieved to finally be able to scratch all of his itches. _Ahh, yeah. That’s the shit._

Cecil watched in some level of disgust and fascination at the red, puckered skin around the wound, the rawness of the gash cut through by black lines of stitching. “... Fucking hell, dude, how did you…”

“They worked me. One of them tried to slash me open. Told me he wanted to see my guts pooling on the ground. Fortunately, they didn’t slash me good enough for my intestines to start hanging out,” Travis laughed.

“Ah,” Cecil nodded. “Yeah, that… that makes sense. Well, I’m really fucking glad you didn’t get your guts cut out, buddy.”

“Yeah. Just through… I mean, it was a deep wound, but it wasn’t _that_ deep,” Travis assured. “Didn’t hit any organs or anything. Just bled a lot.”

Cecil studied the wound. “Yeah. Let me get you something to bandage that. I think I have just the thing that’ll fit.” He dashed off in the direction of the bathroom.

Travis nodded. He looked down at the wound for the first time. He’d been cut open from nipple to navel. _Yeah, that’s gonna leave a scar. Fuck me, that looks like something out of a zombie movie. Well, there go my chances of ever making it in the sack with anyone. No girl wants to look at that shit while they’re trying to get off._

_Not like any girl would want a skinny white fuck like you anyway._

Travis looked up as Cecil came running back through the door, holding something wrapped in orange plastic. “Here we go. I got it.”

“Cecil, you shithead, that’s a feminine hygiene product,” Travis laughed. “Fucking hell, dude, I know it’s big, but it’s not _that_ big.”

Cecil laughed. “All right, all right. I’ll do the right thing.” He disappeared back into the bathroom.

Travis shook his head, grinning. “Look at this fucker. Whose man is this?”

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same to him,” Chris nagged. “Because I know you would.”

Travis sighed. “Yeah, I guess.” He looked around. “Hey, where’s Lou Ellen?”

“Out doing some of her magic bullshit,” Chris replied. “She left at dawn and still hasn’t returned.”

Travis nodded. “... Yeah, that sounds right.”

Cecil returned. “Alright, guys, I’m off my bullshit now,” he laughed. He held up the gauze pads for the others to see, along with a roll of medical tape. 

_“Thank_ you,” Connor snipped. He snatched the bandages from Cecil’s hands and gently began taping gauze pads over Travis’s chest. One, two, three gauze pads, matching the folds of his body when he sat. “... There we go,” he sighed. “That should do it.”

Travis gave Connor a grateful smile. “Thanks, man. I promise I’ll return the favor.” He pulled on a new, clean sweatshirt. “I’m gonna go change. Turn around.”

Chris, Connor and Cecil turned. Travis changed his shirt and pants, putting on a tee shirt and shorts. No use in getting dressed for real if he was only going to spend the rest of that day in bed. “All right. I’m changed."

Connor scanned Travis up and down. “... You should rest. I’ll get you a cup of ice cubes to suck on if you need. Your mouth can’t feel good after having two teeth knocked out of it.”

“Fuck, dude, they knocked your teeth out too?” Cecil broke in. 

“Yup. One up top and one on bottom,” Travis confirmed. “That’s why I came into camp spitting blood.”

“Damn. Well… I hear they do offer dental implants, like fake teeth. We could sell some of the stolen shit we have in the closet and rack up the money for it,” Cecil suggested. 

“They’re in the way back of my mouth, so it’s not too visible,” Travis reasoned. “I’m just worried about it hurting when I eat.”

“Once the gum heals, it’ll toughen. Then you won’t have that problem,” Chris reassured. “I had to have a molar pulled as a kid, that’s how I know. Until then, you can chew on the other side of your mouth.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Travis nodded. He looked up, hoping to see Connor, but saw that he’d left while Travis and Cecil were talking about busted teeth. 

“You’re welcome,” Cecil replied. He paused, scanning Travis up and down. “... You should get in your bed. Rest a bit.”

Travis nodded. He kept his eyes trained on the ground. “... I… I don’t really want to be alone, though.”

Cecil sat next to him, patting his back. “Don’t worry, man. We can stay with you. It’s good.”

Travis blushed. “... Thanks, dude. It means a lot.”

Cecil nodded. “No problem.”

Connor returned with the cup of ice. He halted before Travis. “I thought you were gonna get in your bed.”

Travis nodded absently. He dragged himself up the ladder to his top-bunk bed, flopping down on the mattress and closing his eyes.

He felt Connor lie down next to him. Connor pulled his blankets up around his body, touched a piece of ice to his lips. Travis took it, washed it into the back of his mouth with his tongue, held it against his swollen gum. “... Thanks,” he murmured.

“No problem,” Connor reassured, stroking Travis’s hair. “It’s all good.”

Travis felt the vibrations as Cecil and Chris hauled themselves up to Travis’s bed. Chris lay down behind him, slinging an arm across his body. Cecil perched on the railing of the bed, looking like some sort of mutant crow in his favored black trenchcoat. “.... Thanks, guys,” he murmured. “You’re the greatest brothers I could ever hope to have.” _That’s why I have to protect you guys. I can’t let you fall prey to Luke’s treachery._

Connor snorted. “Sappy asshole. Just sleep.”

Travis yawned. “Will do, man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't put Tratie in this because this was back in the time period where they still hated each other, so I kept it to brotherly fluff.


	102. Some Chrisse-Brother and I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got a request from someone who calls themselves "Dana" requesting to see Chris's claiming scene. I wrote it out real quick (it wound up being really short) and now I'm posting it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Clarisse telling Chris to kill himself.

"So I've been doing some thinking," Chris started. He and Clarisse were standing under Thalia's Tree, a cool fall wind in their hair. Chris was fiddling with the strap of a backpack he held on his shoulder.

"Oh gods," Clarisse started. "It's never a good thing when you think."

Chris ignored that. “I was thinking that… what if Luke was right? I mean, we arrived together. You got claimed within the first week, but I never did. I mean, whoever my godly parent is, he doesn’t give a shit for me. Why should I care about someone who never cared about me?”

Clarisse’s face fell. “So what? You want to go join Luke’s little breakaway group?”

Chris looked at the sky. “... I mean… yeah. I guess I do.”

Clarisse scowled darkly. “And what about me? What should I do? Because I’m not defecting. I’m not a  _ traitor.” _

“... We can still keep in touch,” Chris mumbled weakly. “I could still call you or IM you or something.”

“You do realize if you leave, there’ll come a time when I’ll have to fight you, right?” Clarisse snapped. “Luke’s out to kill us.”

Chris shifted. “... I’ve been told we will show mercy to the demigods if they’re defeated. It’s just the gods we’re out to get.”

Clarisse pointed to her face, colder than Chris had ever seen it. “Look at how many shits I give about you supposedly ‘discerning’ between your enemies. Besides, why the hell would you pick Luke over me? And the literal  _ lifetime  _ we’ve spent together? We’ve been friends since infancy, Chris! Does that  _ mean _ anything to you?”

“I mean, yeah, it does, but Luke was like a brother to me, and--” A bright flash of light cut him off. “What the fuck?”

Clarisse shielded her eyes from the flash. When it faded away, she opened her eyes. “Chris, look!”

Chris looked down. His shoes had sprouted a pair of bright white wings. “Clarisse, I…”

“Well, there we go. You’ve been claimed. Will you come back to camp and stop talking bullshit now?”

“... I’m Luke’s  _ brother, _ ” Chris murmured, almost in awe. “I’m really his brother.”

“So what? So fucking what? You’re choosing a guy you just met over a person you’ve known your entire life just ‘cuz he’s blood?” Clarisse fumed. 

“I didn’t just meet Luke. I’ve known him for, like, two or three years,” Chris reasoned mildly. 

Clarisse scowled at Chris. “You know what?”

Chris wanted to recoil. Clarisse’s anger really  _ was  _ terrifying. “... What?”

“Go fuck yourself.” Chris saw little tears jeweling in the corner of her eyes as she snapped. “Just… go fuck yourself.” Clarisse turned and stormed off, shouting all the way. “You know what? Two can play that game. I don’t care about you either, Chris. Just go join Luke’s army. Get yourself killed. I don’t give a shit if you live or die.”

In his heart, Chris knew she didn’t mean it, but the insult still stung nonetheless. “... I’m sorry,” he called down the hill after her. 

Clarisse held up her middle finger. “Go fuck yourself, punk!”

Chris nodded. “... Okay,” he mumbled, shifting his feet. He turned, putting his backpack on all the way. “Don’t look back,” he mumbled to himself, shuffling away from camp. “Don’t look back, amigo, she doesn’t want you.”

“I know it hurts, but you’ve made your choice, and now you have to stick with it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, we all know she forgives him in the canon. :)


	103. Chrisse, some Sheranda- Aching Ribs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarisse fears two people only.
> 
> Today, one of those two people comes back to bite her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for gore, child abuse mentions, mild medical scenes, mentions of self-harm, Ares being a douche, some minor talk of rape, and prison rape jokes. Also, this drabble is pretty long. It's the longest thing in this doc thus far. I briefly considered making it a standalone thing, but it's a one-shot, so I'm putting it here. 
> 
> This could be considered as an extension of "The Things Love Can Overlook". You don't necessarily need to read that to read this, but it might help. I think the important parts from there come across decently here (or in earlier drabbles). That's a really roundabout way to say that this drabble deals with a self-harming Clarisse and Clarisse and Miranda being friends.
> 
> I need fanart of those two hugging or getting coffee or something.

Clarisse was going to die.

She just knew it. Her ribs throbbed; she knew in her heart they were broken, but she couldn’t bring herself to do anything about it. She didn’t have the strength to lift her head, much less seek help. She felt a drop of blood run down from her mouth, whether it was from her lips or her gum or where, she couldn’t tell. Her arm was twisted beneath her, she could feel her muscles beginning to cramp from the strain, but she was beyond caring. The grass beneath her was cool, at any other point in time she would have found it pleasant, but she was in too much pain to care.

Ares’s words echoed in her head. _What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re such a disgrace it’s not even funny. If you wanna die so bad, go ahead and die. You know no one would miss you._

_Gods, maybe your mother was right not to love you._

She felt a tear drip down her cheek. Or maybe she was just bleeding from somewhere else. She couldn’t tell. Her body felt like one huge open wound, abused flesh with blood dripping down. 

She thought of Chris. He would be waiting for her. They were gonna hang out. Before Ares had summoned her to “talk” on Olympus, they’d been planning to have some quality time. _I’m sorry,_ she thought. _I hope you don’t think I’ve decided to ditch you. I love you, I really do, but I’m too weak. I hope you find a way to forgive me someday._

_I love you. I’m sorry._

Her head felt light. The pain receded to a dull ache. She could have sworn she saw her soul retreating from her body. It looked tiny and malformed. _That’s about right,_ she thought. _Figures my soul would look like someone shot it full of bullets._

And on that pleasant thought, she fell unconscious.

  
  


When Clarisse woke up, she was somewhere warm. 

That was strange. She didn’t think the underworld was warm and toasty. She was sure it didn’t feel _safe._ She’d expected to see Silena, sure. Maybe get a hug. But she didn’t expect to feel warm. She’d always thought of the Underworld as an eternally cold and dark place, not a place where she was warm and could see light filtering in from somewhere behind her closed eyes. 

Or maybe she wasn’t dead. Had she been found somehow? If so, how? Who had even cared enough to rescue the disgrace of Ares? After all, if her own parents didn’t care for her, then why would anybody else?

She opened her eyes. She was in a small room with bizarrely dated yellow-flowered wallpaper. She was lying on her side in a small bed with white sheets. The pain all over her body had faded to a dull ache, she assumed she’d been medicated. She tried to move. It was painful, but not agonizing. She tried to sit up. A bandage bit into her flesh. _… I can only assume this is one of the private infirmary rooms at camp. Mortal hospitals would put me on more machines._

She scanned over the rest of her body. Someone had stripped off her armor and changed her into a sweatshirt and pajama pants. She blushed. _Fuck, that’s embarrassing. Someone saw me naked. Gods, I hope it was just Chris._ Pulling up her pant legs and sweatshirt, she could see that her cuts had been bandaged, her bruises were beginning to heal. Her ankle was wrapped in an elastic bandage. She assumed she’d sprained it trying to stave off Ares’s assault. Her cheek and lip still felt numb, but not quite as painful as they had been. _Well, that’s good at least, I guess. Maybe. Or maybe not. Maybe I should be dead._

Another hot clutch of shame hit her chest. _… Yeah. I should be dead. I mean, that’s what Ares said, and he’s a literal god. Why would I doubt the words of a literal god? He was right when he said you were a weak, worthless piece of shit. I mean, even fucking_ Jackson _was able to fight him off. Not you, though. Not fucking you._

_And Chris is probably super mad as well. He probably thinks you ditched him. I’d tell you to kill yourself, but even that would be too merciful a death for you._

She felt hot tears trickle down her cheeks. _Ah, yes. Crying like a little bitch, I see. Gods, I can only imagine what the others would say if they saw you like this. We may even reach 100% of your immediate family abandoning you! How astounding! World’s most useless broad, right here!_

Someone knocked on the door. Clarisse wiped her eyes, stood up shakily, and locked it. Pain shot through her ankle, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want the outside world intruding in on her. She didn’t deserve comfort. She deserved to sit in solitary and cry. 

She lay back down, letting a few tears trickle into her soft white pillow.

“You may have a lock,” echoed a familiar voice, “but I have a key.” 

She heard the door pop open and lifted her head. Chris was standing at the door, smiling. Her eyes watered. “... Chris.”

Chris approached her bedside. “‘Tis me.”

“... What happened?” Clarisse croaked. “Who rescued me?”

“Percy found you on Olympus while he was looking for Meg, who'd gone off with Apollo. He called Chiron and Chiron sent Will and Miranda and me. We picked you up in the flying chariot and brought you home. What happened? Who did this to you?”

Clarisse’s lip trembled. “... I don’t want to talk about it.”

Chris nodded. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair off of her cheek. His hand was so tender Clarisse didn’t even feel the hurt in her bruise. “... Is there anything I can do?”

Clarisse sniffled. She held out her arms. Chris lay down beside her, taking her in his arms, holding her close to his chest. Clarisse whimpered. _I don’t deserve this. I don’t. But oh, it’s so good, he’s so warm and his touch feels like redemption, like relief, like being okay. Oh, gods, I’m going to cry. I’m going to start crying and when I do I won’t be able to stop. Oh, gods, it’s agonizing._ “... I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I… I didn’t mean to ditch you. I’m so sorry.”

Chris kissed the top of her head. “It’s okay, Riri. I’m not mad. I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. I know you wouldn’t pick a stupid fight before a date.”

“... Thanks,” Clarisse murmured. She pressed her cheek a little closer to Chris’s chest, feeling his heartbeat, his breathing. It was so warm and reassuring that Clarisse wanted to weep. She wanted to cry out, scream that she didn’t deserve the relief he brought, but she didn’t have the energy to cry for herself. She was so undeserving, so _worthless,_ and yet Chris still held her like he loved her, like she was precious. The world around them vanished into a dull hum, shrinking to fit the width of the bed, nothingness beyond the border. His fingers carded gently through her hair, soft over her scalp. She was sure her hair was disgusting, oily and stringy, but Chris didn’t seem to care. She felt a sudden pulse of something foreign pass through her, something she assumed was absolute, all-consuming love. Her lip quivered. 

“... You’re tense,” Chris observed. “Am I hurting you? I know you broke a few ribs, but with the nectar they should be half-healed by now…”

Clarisse shook her head. “... It aches. It’s not intolerable, though.”

Chris nodded. “Yeah. I’d expect it. I just… I don’t want… I mean, if you're going to cry… if you’re tense because you’re sad or in pain and want to cry, don’t worry. I won’t think less of you if you’re crying. But I still do think you should take a breath and tell me about it.”

Clarisse sighed. “Chris, I… I _really_ don’t feel like talking about it.”

Chris nodded. He was quiet for a moment, taking in the tension in her muscles, the way her every breath quivered on its way out. “... Did your father do something bad?”

Clarisse gave a tiny nod.

Chris was quiet. He held her a little tighter. He didn’t want to make her feel intruded on, but he desperately wanted to provide even some comfort. He knew all words would seem empty, no matter how much feeling he put in, no matter how sincerely he meant what he said. In fact, he was shocked Clarisse was allowing herself to be held. Clarisse normally didn’t want anything to do with anyone when she was wounded. 

He curled around her a little tighter, trying to cocoon her, as if he could protect her from her own abused soul. Relieve her pain somehow. Oh, gods, if only he could take her pain away. “... I’m sorry,” he finally managed, trying to tamp down the emotions that choked in his throat. “... I’m so sorry.”

Clarisse shook her head. She sniffled. “... Not your fault.”

“... I know. I just… call me a douche if you want, but I want to protect you from harm. If I can.”

Clarisse choked back a cry. “... You can’t protect me from him, Chris. You can’t. He’s the fucking god of war. If he decides I’m gonna get hurt, lose my reputation, die, it’s not stoppable. Not by you, not by anyone.”

Chris stroked her hair, trying not to break into tears in his own right. “... Oh, gods, Risse. I’m so sorry.” 

Clarisse sniffled. “... Chris, I… why do you… why do you put up with me? I can’t be easy or fun to be around. I’m not even good enough in a fight to warrant being around. Why do you put up with me?” Her voice broke. “Why does anyone?”

“... Did Ares tell you that?” Chris gently stroked an old scar on her back, enjoying the feeling of the slightly raised patch of skin. 

Clarisse was quiet. She finally gave another small nod. 

Chris didn’t reply. There was so much he wanted to say that he just couldn’t find the words for. He wanted to tell her she was an amazing fighter, the best he’d ever seen. He wanted to tell her she was _so, so_ worth it to be around, that in her kind moments she was one of the better girls he’d ever known, that he loved her with his whole heart, but he knew the words wouldn’t reach her heart. “... I’m sorry,” he mumbled for the millionth time that day. “I’m sorry. I love you. I do. I wish I could take the pain away. And I’m sorry I can’t. Please, tell me if there’s any way I can help you.”

Clarisse pulled away slightly and looked at Chris. “... I owe you one, you know that? I do.”

Chris leaned in and gave Clarisse a kiss. He wanted to fill her with love, seal the cracks in her heart with warmth and tenderness, flush out the black tar of hatred and replace it with the sweetness of his love. Her lips were dry, the bottom one trembled slightly against his own. It was a moment before he pulled away. “You don’t owe me anything, Risse. You’ve given me all you have to give. Don’t worry about it.”

Clarisse’s lip trembled. Watching her beat up and lingering on the edge of tears made Chris’s heart ache. “... Thanks,” she sniffled. 

There was a pause. Chris stroked Clarisse’s hair as gently as he could. Clarisse lay her head on the pillow, her good eye half-shut, her bruised eye swollen to a slit. She was shaking slightly. “... Are you cold?”

Clarisse shook her head. “No. It’s nice and warm in here. I just… my ribs are aching. Kind of badly. And my ankle doesn’t feel good either.”

Chris nodded. “How about I get Will and see if it’s almost time for more pain medicine?”

Clarisse wanted to beg him to stay, but the steadily increasing ache was beginning to make her desperate. “... Okay,” she whispered. “... Come back soon.”

Chris kissed her cheek. “Of course. I’ll be as fast as I can be.”

He watched as she closed her eyes. “... Thanks.”

Chris left the private room and stepped into the main infirmary. The infirmary felt too wide, somehow, too open. It didn’t help that the infirmary was mostly empty, with only a few campers sleeping in scattered beds. “... Will?”

Will looked up from his corner desk. “Hey, man. How’s she holding up?”

“Physically, she’s a little better. The bruises are fading out. The ribs are still giving her trouble, though. Can we possibly-”

“No more nectar. Not today. We can start giving it tomorrow at the earliest,” Will insisted.

“No, I know that. I was asking if we could give her some more pain meds,” Chris explained. “She’s starting to hurt again.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Will nodded. “Yeah, she can have more.” He grinned, standing up and stretching. “Just because she’s in the infirmary doesn’t mean she has to suffer.”

“Of course,” Chris agreed. 

Will moseyed over to the infirmary closet, pulling out a bottle of pills. “Go get some water from the dispenser, will you?”

Chris nodded. He crossed the infirmary and filled a cup with water before turning back to Will. “What medicine are you giving her? She won’t take anything that has psychoactive effects.”

“I mean… the more powerful the painkiller, the more extreme the psychological effects. If she refuses that, the strongest I can give her is either Advil or aspirin. I mean, would she refuse something that just made her sleepy?”

“She would,” Chris affirmed. “Clarisse hates being affected or laid low. I mean, she doesn’t even like to sleep. I think she’s scared of being attacked while vulnerable.”

Will nodded. “That makes sense.” He put the pill bottle away, then pulled out another one. “This should be better.”

Chris nodded. “Yeah. I hope so. I mean, I don’t want Clarisse to be in physical pain, but I think she’d prefer some more physical pain to more emotional pain, you know?”

“No, yeah. I think she’d prefer that too,” Will nodded. “Is she particularly upset?”

Chris thought back to Clarisse’s face, her eyes dull and teary. “... Yeah,” he sighed. “She’s not doing so hot.”

Will’s eyebrows scrunched. He nodded. “Did you find out who did this to her?”

“... I don’t know if she’d want me to tell you.”

Will nodded. “That’s understandable. I just hope she knows that she can talk to me if she needs.”

“I don’t know if she’d want to talk to you. I could barely get her to talk to me,” Chris apologized. “And she _always_ talks to me.”

“Well, it’s good she’s got someone to talk to at least,” Will nodded. He walked towards the private room, tapping on the door. “Clarisse? May I come in? I have some Advil for you, and some water, and some good news.”

“... Come in,” came a sniffly voice from the other side of the door. 

Will opened the door. Clarisse was lying in the fetal position, her sheet pulled up over her head. Will sat on a stool beside the bed. “Okay,” he started. “For one, be real careful about lying on your side.”

“... It’s not the side that hurts,” Clarisse mumbled. “How many ribs did I break?”

“Two broken, one cracked,” Will responded. “When we found you, you had a ginormous dent in the side of your armor. Like, you’d have to suffer forces equivalent to a car crash to produce a dent that depth and size. It’s miraculous you weren’t worse. There’s only one bit of good news and that’s that you don’t appear to have been molested.”

“... So _you_ stripped me,” Clarisse muttered.

“I did, yes. I’m sorry. I know it’s humiliating. I didn’t like it either. But it had to be done,” Will responded. “I had to make sure I wasn’t missing anything, and you weren’t awake to tell me what hurt.”

Clarisse’s face flamed red. “... You’re into men, right?”

“I am. Why?”

“ _Only_ men?”

“Well, I’ve never been in love with a woman. I’ve never had any sexual reactions to the female body. And I’ve seen plenty of naked or semi-naked girls. Why do you ask?”

“Just wanted to make sure,” Clarisse shrugged. “You’re not gonna try to molest me if you don’t like women in that way.”

“I’m not gonna molest anyone period, because I’m a decent human being. Now take some Advil and stop worrying you’re gonna get raped. I’m not gonna let that happen to you and neither will Chris.” Will patted the blanket over Clarisse’s shoulder.

Clarisse nodded dully. “... I trust you. Maybe.”

“Well, at least there’s a little trust,” Will chuckled. “Do you need help sitting up? I don’t want you to choke.”

Clarisse nodded. 

Will put his arms around her and pulled her up into a proper sitting position, leaning back on pillows. “Is that better?” he asked. 

Clarisse nodded again. “Yeah.” 

Will nodded. “Good. Here, take this.” He held the cup of water to her lips. 

Clarisse drank. She swallowed the pill that Will gave her and closed her eyes again. “... Thanks,” she mumbled. “You… you’re a nice guy. Too nice. Someone’s gonna beat the shit out of you one day. Hurt you real bad.”

“There are people who already have. But that isn’t your problem. So don’t worry about it,” Will reassured. “Now’s not the time to focus on others.”

“Just thought you might want the warning.” Clarisse tried to shrug, but wound up groaning in pain as the movement jostled her broken ribs. “I thought maybe you could stand not to be so easily led to kindness.”

Will studied Clarisse’s face. He studied the newly forming scar on her lip, the bruises on her cheek. “... It’s better to be kind than cruel, Clarisse. Cruelty was what put you in this bed. The kindness of my heart, of Chris’s heart, is what’s gonna get you out.”

Clarisse looked at Will. It was a long look. Finally, she spoke. “... Speaking of kind hearts, where is Miranda?”

“She was in here earlier, right before breakfast. She left when the breakfast horn tooted. She said she’d be back, but she hasn’t shown up yet,” Will replied. 

“... Okay,” Clarisse whispered. 

“Do you want me to get her?”

“... Sure.”

Will nodded. “Here. I’ll go. I think you’re stable enough. Don’t jostle around too much. Your ribs are better because we gave you a lot of nectar, but they’re not healed yet. That ankle is still a little messed up too. Don’t walk further than the bathroom, and make sure Chris is there to catch you if you start to fall. You may not be in that much pain compared to where you were, but you’re still pretty weak. Also, make sure to take deep breaths. I know it hurts, but if you don’t, you could get infections in your lungs. Anyway, I’ll see you later.”

“... Yes, Doc,” Clarisse mumbled, curling up carefully on her good side and closing her eyes. 

Chris tiptoed into the room after Will left. He gently ran a hand through her hair. “... How did it go? What did Will say?”

“... He told me to just remember to breathe properly, even though it hurts. And he told me to be careful about how I move and hold myself.”

“Always smart. I mean, does this position hurt? More than lying on your back?”

“... Not really. It hurts regardless. Also, when I lie on my back, it feels like my chest is being crushed. It actually hurts _more._ ”

“Oh, because…” Chris pantomimed a set of breasts on his chest.

“... Yeah, I guess,” Clarisse sighed. 

“Yeah. Weight is bad for broken ribs,” Chris murmured. “Want me to help you hold ‘em?”

“Chris, I swear to gods, if I wasn’t in this bed…” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Chris laughed. “It was a joke.”

Clarisse snorted. “You’re the horniest fuck I’ve ever met.”

Chris kissed her. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re all right,” Clarisse murmured. 

It was a few moments before Miranda came shooting into the room. She was smudged in dirt, sweat was weighing down her long hair. “Clarisse! You’re awake!”

Clarisse looked up at her. She held out her arms and Miranda slid into them, kneeling by the bed, leaning Clarisse’s head against her chest. “... Thanks,” Clarisse murmured. “I… I… thanks.”

“Always,” Miranda replied, petting Clarisse’s hair. “If you need me, I’m here for you.”

Clarisse relaxed into her. She smelled like the earth, like fresh dirt. Clarisse didn’t realize how much she’d missed that. “... You’re too sweet.”

“... Thanks,” Miranda replied. She pulled away, petting Clarisse’s hair. “Are you feeling any better? You looked real bad when we found you. Like, _real_ bad.”

Clarisse shifted a little. “... Yeah. I’m… I’m a little better. Will says my ribs are still bad, though. Even with ambrosia and nectar, it may take a little while to heal.”

Miranda nodded. She stared at the white threads of the bedsheet, resting her head on her arms. “I guess that’s to be expected. Whoever hurt you did a number on you.”

Clarisse nodded. _Why didn’t you fight back? Why couldn’t you fight back? He may be a god, but he’s not indestructible. He can be hurt too. You should have hurt him. You should have hurt him for hurting you._

“... You’re crying,” Miranda whispered, brushing a tear off of her cheek. “... Does it really hurt that badly?”

Clarisse shook her head. “... No. I’m all right.”

“... What hurts, then?”

Clarisse was quiet for a long time. She closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, then whimpered as the pressure burned against her abused ribs. Her lip trembled and she bit it, sucking it hard to keep from crying out. Her eyes opened slowly. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “... Why would two people conceive a child that neither of them wanted and both of them despise?”

Chris climbed into the bed behind Clarisse, looping an arm low around her waist and pressing his face into her shoulder. He shook his head, not saying anything.

Miranda took her hand and squeezed it. “... I don’t know, Clarisse. I really don’t know. I mean, I could say lack of abortion access. I could say lack of birth control access. But even then, it doesn’t explain everything. There are literally hundreds of ways to prevent or get rid of unwanted children. If this is about your mother, I don’t know why she was so terrible to you. If this is about your father, he’s cruel by nature. You can’t hurt because of things done by cruel-natured people. There’s no reasoning to cruel things done by cruel people. And I… I don’t really know where I’m going with this, I just… I just mean that… you can’t be hurt for what your parents do. 

“Cruel people, the both of them.”

Clarisse gave a small nod. “I’m aware of their cruelty. I’m the one who experiences it. They put my mother away, but who’s responsible for a god? Who keeps track of the sins of a deity? No one. They go unregulated. And I train and train and train for what? Only to break down in tears under my father’s hand? Only to run screaming and bleeding from my mother’s gun? Only to fall sobbing at the feet of my godly brothers?” Clarisse’s voice crescendoed as she spoke. “Ares was right when he told me I was useless.”

“You’re not useless,” Miranda managed. “You’re not. There’s a reason we put you at the head of the armies. There’s a reason why we put you in the thick of every fight. There’s a reason for all of that. We wouldn’t do that if we thought you were useless. I mean, we don’t put Clovis in the thick of things. We don’t put Drew Tanaka in the middle of the fight. You’re not useless. Trust me.”

Clarisse was silent. Her face was squinched into a terrible scowl, enraged tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Finally, she said “You’re full of shit, Miranda. I love you dearly, but you’re more full of shit than a prison tough’s dickhead. I don’t believe a word you’re saying to me.”

Miranda nodded simply. “You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to. I know it’s hard to believe someone like me when someone like Ares or your mother is telling you something opposite.”

“... They deserve each other,” Clarisse sniffled. “Ares and my mom. Two fucking psychos.”

Miranda brushed her fingers over Clarisse’s cheek. “Maybe they do. Is your dad married?”

“Not from what I know,” Clarisse sniffled. “He’s too busy boning someone else’s wife.”

Miranda nodded. “Maybe they should get married. Ares and your mom.”

Clarisse shuddered. “The Fates are cruel, but they aren’t that cruel. Look, I fear my father. I fear him very much. But… he does not wish for my demise. My mother wants me dead. If my mom had her way, she’d have torn me into a million little bits. My mother should not carry power. The thing is, Ares is cruel. Ares beats me. Ares calls me a piece of shit and says I should die. But he won’t kill me. I know that much. My mother will kill me if I see her again.”

Chris held her a little closer. He had no words for her suffering. He had no words to comfort her. He loved her wholeheartedly, but he was devoid of words. He kissed the back of her neck, up and down, softly as he could. He didn’t know how to express what he felt in words, so he settled for touch. Maybe if his lips were soft enough, if his touch was gentle enough, he could take it away, even just a little bit. Maybe he could lighten the load. 

Miranda looked down. “... I wish I could adopt you.”

Clarisse gave a raspy chuckle. “I’m a legal adult, Miranda. I don’t have to kowtow to any mortal or demigod because of law.”

“... You cowed under force,” Miranda murmured. “You cowed because Ares was hurting you.”

“Which is the only acceptable way for someone to be subjugated. Not under law. Under force.”

“What’s the difference?” Chris mumbled into Clarisse’s abuse-toughened skin. 

“Laws include petty mindgames. Laws are nothing but psychological manipulation designed to keep the population under control. Force is force. Force is swift. Force puts everyone under one strong leader. Force isn’t fair, but it can be understood, and if you have force and cunning, you have all you need in life. Strength makes people fall in line.” Clarisse sighed. “... And Ares put me back in line, I suppose. He… in a way, he wants me to be… be strong. I don’t think he’d put me through all of this hell if he didn’t want me to be strong. I mean, he’s left his other kids alone, so… he either loves me most of all or hates me more than anything, and… I guess you can tell which one I want to believe.”

“... I don’t know how your father feels,” Miranda murmured. “Although I find it hard to believe that someone would treat their child cruelly out of love.”

“Some people love differently. You have to remember, Ares’s seen multiple daughters of his get raped. I’m the first daughter he’s had in years. Even pre-Manhattan there were only two girls in Ares out of seven or eight kids overall. Maybe he’s overprotective.”

Miranda looked up. “Why did he do this? Did he say? Or did he just go off on you?”

Clarisse closed her eyes. “... I… I fucked up.”

Miranda stroked her hair. “How?”

Clarisse sucked her lip, tracing her tongue gently over the few stitches Will had so carefully put in the skin. “... I was weak.”

“... How were you weak?”

Clarisse pulled down the hem of her sweatshirt, revealing her chest, lashed deep with old self-harm scars. 

“... Oh. _Oh,”_ Miranda whispered. “Oh. Oh, my gods. What the… _why?_ Did he think that would _help?_ Why would he _do_ this? That’s so… oh, gods, I’m _angry_ now! I’m legitimately mad now. I… oh, _gods!_ ”

Clarisse shrugged. “It was a weakness. Ares despises weakness. He always has. And I think… I think it was disappointing to him to see his strongest daughter in hundreds of years do something weak. And Ares does not handle being disappointed well.”

“... Gods. I guess not.” Miranda shook her head. “I mean… that’s so… so _barbaric,_ to hurt someone over an act they committed out of desperation.”

“Ares is barbaric. Ares kids are barbaric. Those touched by Ares’s blood turn to barbarism. It’s what you have to do to please him. It’s what he has to do to please himself,” Clarisse murmured. “There’s no other way.”

“What’s worse is that you _rationalize_ it,” Miranda murmured. “You say he does it because he loves you, but you’d think that if someone loves you, they wouldn’t hurt you. Like Chris loves you.”

“That’s romantic love. It’s different,” Clarisse murmured. “Romantic love shouldn’t hurt. Familial love, though… it hurts. It just fundamentally hurts. It’s the nature of the beast. All of my blood family is dysfunctional. My mother hates me. My father thinks I’m a disgrace, at least now if not always. My immortal brothers want me dead as well. My demigod brothers, bless them, have been effectively scared into submission. My granny is PTSD from her time as a war nurse and couldn’t even care for me half the time. Familial love, at least in my family, is fucking agonizing.”

“Where did your granny serve?” Miranda asked.

“Vietnam. She met my grandfather over there. I never knew the old man, he hung himself from the rod of his curtains before I was born. Poor guy couldn’t take the weight of what he’d seen. My granny never spoke of it. The only reason I ever knew anything was because I begged it out of her. Only time I ever saw the old lady cry,” Clarisse sighed. “Gods, I felt like an ass.”

“... I don’t exactly know how to reassure you on this,” Miranda murmured. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Clarisse mumbled. “I don’t need it. All I’m saying is that familial love fucking sucks. Friend-love is slightly better. Romantic love is nice and warm at least.” She leaned her head back slightly against Chris’s chest. 

“... It’s nice you have something warm and sweet in your life,” Miranda murmured. “Everyone needs something soft to keep them going.”

Clarisse nodded. Her eyes still had tears pooled in them. It broke Miranda’s soft heart. “... You know, I won’t think you’re weak for crying in front of us. I think… I think it might provide some release.”

Clarisse sniffled. “... I don’t like crying. I cried for Silena and I never really stopped. Also, crying for grief is much less shameful than crying because you’re sad for yourself.”

“... I don’t view crying because of horrific abuse and emotional torment as shameful,” Miranda murmured. “If you need release, you should have it. I don’t want to deprive you any more than you’ve been deprived.”

Clarisse reached out and clutched Miranda’s hands. Miranda watched as tears began to pour down her cheeks. “... I’m so-orry,” she quavered. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, my girl,” Miranda whispered. “Oh, my girl. Don’t apologize for your tears.”

Clarisse helplessly leaned her head into Miranda’s chest. “... It hurts so bad.”

“... I know,” Miranda whispered, stroking Clarisse’s hair. “I know. I know it hurts. I’m sorry.”

Clarisse didn’t reply. Her shoulders shook, she moaned in agony as her sobs jostled her wounded ribs. Miranda cupped her hand over the back of Clarisse’s head, leaning it into her chest. She prayed that her touch would be comforting in some way, that she could bring some relief, lift some of the weight off of her soul. She made eye contact with Chris as he lifted his head slightly. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly, there were dark smudges beneath his eyes. She leaned over and patted his hand. _Be strong,_ she mouthed. _Clarisse needs you. She needs_ us. 

Chris nodded. He buried his face in the crook of Clarisse’s neck, closing his eyes. “... I love you,” he whispered. “I do. I love you so much it hurts. Gods, I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve the hurt they give to you.”

Clarisse sniffled. She clutched Chris’s hand in one of her own. pulling it up, giving his fingers a kiss. “... I… I…” She gasped and choked on a sob, groaning. “... I lo-ove... you... too.”

There was a moment of silence. Clarisse cried and cried, her chest aching and throbbing. Her lungs felt like they were being compressed, unable to expand all the way. Her whole body burned. She was such a disgrace.

Such a worthless disgrace.

  
  


Clarisse didn’t know how long she’d laid there sobbing before she felt another presence at her bedside.

She wiped her eyes and looked up. Will was standing beside her, his eyes full of sympathy and concern. “... Do you need more pain medicine? Are you hurting that badly?”

She shook her head. “... No. I… I… I’m all right.”

“Most people don’t cry when they’re all right,” Will nagged. 

“She’s hurting a bit emotionally,” Miranda cut in. “Or a lot emotionally. Will, are you willing to do the thing?”

“What the hell is ‘the thing’?” Clarisse sniffled. 

“Yeah, dude, what are you about to do to her?” Chris barked.

Will balked. “Uh. Yeah… sure. I’ll do that. If she’s okay with it that is. Clarisse, Chris, I don’t exactly know how to explain this to you, but are you okay with me reading your mind in order to bear some of your pain? It makes you feel a lot better, I promise.”

“Actually, you’ve done this to me before,” Clarisse sniffled. “A few years back, anyway.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. I remember now,” Will nodded. “Yeah, sorry. That time right after Manhattan is really just a blur to me. I’m sorry.”

Clarisse shrugged, then groaned softly as her ribs were disturbed. “It’s fine.”

Will knelt down next to her. “Miranda, could you step aside for a moment? You’ll have a lot of time to hug and cuddle Clarisse later, I promise.”

“Of course,” Miranda nodded. She untangled herself from Clarisse’s touch, leaving Clarisse to look at her with an unusually vulnerable look in her eyes before putting her head down. 

Will moved a bit closer. He very carefully took Clarisse in an awkward hold, his arms draped around her shoulders. Clarisse balled her fists in the fabric of his shirt. Will closed his eyes, focusing, petting Clarisse’s hair like it was some kind of precious instrument. Miranda watched as Will’s face drained entirely of color. He gasped. 

Clarisse groaned. Cool water was pouring into the burning cracks in her soul. Her lungs expanded and she drew a breath, a real, full breath, not a choked gasp. “... Oh, gods…”

Will leaned his head into the bed beside her. “... I’m sorry,” he croaked. “... I’m really sorry.”

Clarisse ruffled his hair. “Don’t pity me. I don’t need it.”

“... Sorry,” Will sniffled. He raised his head, brushing away a few tears that had pooled in his eyes. “Sorry. It’s… it’s a bit extreme for the first minute or two after I take it on. I’ve gotten a bit better at withstanding it, but I still get… get moments where it’s hard.” He looked down. “Especially after… I’m sorry.”

“I _said,_ I don’t need pity,” Clarisse grumbled. 

Will looked like he wanted to protest, but said nothing. He pulled away, studying Clarisse’s face. Most of the tension had melted out of her face, her lips were parted. She wasn’t crying anymore, but there was still a thin shine of water over the bridge of her nose. “... Well, you look better at least,” Will murmured. “That’s always good. Do you feel better?”

“... It’s numb,” Clarisse mumbled. “It’s not… _all_ better, but it’s a lot… less painful. Never thought I’d be saying this to an Apollo, but thank you. And I owe you one.”

“It’s been years. Don’t try to reignite old fights. Especially not ones that ended disastrously for all parties involved,” Will nagged. 

“Not trying to,” Clarisse yawned. 

Will studied her face. “... Do you want to sleep? You look really tired.”

Clarisse took Chris’s hand again. “... Don’t make Chris leave. Or Miranda.”

Will smiled. He had a sweet smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t. Not until lunch, anyway. They do need to eat, as do you. Hope you don’t mind my company at that point.”

“I don’t really care what you do,” Clarisse sighed. Her eyes fluttered closed. 

“That’s good,” Will soothed. He pulled her blankets up over her shoulders. “Sleep well. You deserve the rest.”

Clarisse nodded. She gave a small smile. “Thanks.”

“I’m gonna go find Nico. Make sure he ate breakfast this morning. I’ll be somewhere around either the arena or the cabins if you need me. I’ll be back by lunch,” Will reassured. With that, he turned and left, leaving Clarisse, Chris and Miranda alone.

Chris kissed the back of Clarisse’s neck, holding her silently as she drifted off. It didn’t take her very long. She was still hurt, and so tired. Chris listened as her breathing stilled, deepened slightly, evened out. She was heavy in his arms, his arm had been asleep for gods know how long, but she was so nice to hold it was worth it. Without her armor, she felt very human, very soft. Chris loved it when she didn’t feel the need to put on armor. 

Although when he thought about it, the less clothing was on her, the more he enjoyed it.

“... It was interesting, what you said about tears making her feel _better_ ,” Chris murmured. “I would have never thought to comfort her that way.”

Miranda shrugged. “No offense, Chris, but that’s ‘cuz you’re a man. Most men don’t cry enough to analyze the goods and bads of it.”

Chris yawned. “... Yeah, I guess you’re right. I think it’s been a month or two since I’ve cried over anything. I’m fortunate, I guess. I don’t cry much anymore, and when I do, it’s just because I still have nightmares so bad sometimes.”

Miranda nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, save the Tartarus survivors, I think you may have the worst nightmares out of anyone.”

“I’m sure that’s not quite true,” Chris admonished. “Besides, I don’t like to pity myself too much. I don’t wanna look like a guy who needs a lot of pity.”

Miranda laughed. “I don’t think any man does.”

Chris shrugged. “Yeah. No man wants to look like a weenie.”

Miranda laughed. “Oh, gods. A weenie. I’m gonna remember this one.”

Chris smiled at her. He had a nice smile. “Thanks. I’m full of winners.”

Miranda shook her head. “Right, Chris. Right.”

  
  
  
  


Clarisse healed quickly. It was only another day or so before her ribs and ankle were healed enough for her to leave the infirmary. She spent most of the time asleep, drifting in and out of consciousness. Usually Chris was there. Sometimes Miranda was too. Occasionally Will would come in to give her more Advil, or some lunch, or some water. That boy was _obsessive_ about hydration. Clarisse wondered if his ultimate goal was to make her wet the bed. Will also gave her a _lot_ of nectar. Clarisse could have sworn she’d taken more nectar than any other point in her life combined. Fortunately, it brought relief, even if it did serve to make her more sure Will wanted to see her pee on herself.

Fortunately, that didn’t happen. On her last day in the infirmary, she met Will by the door with a mission. “What did you do with my armor?”

Will shifted. “... I mean, do you really… want it?”

“Better than the alternative,” Clarisse sighed. 

“... Ooookay. All I’m saying is, it’s gonna need some repairs,” Will warned. 

“Yeah, I thought so. How bad is it?”

Will opened his closet. “Well, here’s your breastplate.”

Clarisse cringed. The breastplate had a dent in it in the exact shape of a man’s fist. “... Yeah. I’ll take this to the forges and hammer it back into place. It’ll be fine. Any other damage?”

“Just some smaller dents. That one’s the big one. And then you had one bootlace that got broke, and a chunk got taken out of the same boot. Save that, it’s not… too bad? That breastplate isn't gonna be wearable until fixed, though,” Will apologized. 

Clarisse nodded. “... Yeah. I’ve got a spare bootlace in my footlocker, I can fix it easily. And I can hammer out the dents or replace the breastplate or whatever. So it’s not… all bad, I guess.”

“That’s a good way to look at it,” Will replied cheerily. “It’s nice to be positive.”

“Oh, shut up, you little punk,” Clarisse sighed exasperatedly. She began strapping on her armor, save her breastplate. 

“Shutting up,” Will replied complacently. 

“Good.” Clarisse finished putting on all the pieces of her armor that were still wearable and turned to leave, jamming her feet in her boots. “Thanks, punk. I owe you one. Seeya later.”

Will laughed. “You’re welcome, Clarisse. Don’t worry about what you owe me. I’ll see you too.”

Clarisse huffed, stepping out into the midday heat. _That guy’s too nice. I don’t know why he’d help me after the hell I put him through._

_… I wonder if Sherman and Ellis know about what happened._

_Fuck, I hope not. That would be humiliating as anything that’s happened in the past week._

She stumbled back to the cabin, carefully on her laceless boot. _Well, at least the chunk taken out of it was small. I can wear it for a little longer. I’ll see if my granny won’t send money. I don’t feel right trying to beg Chiron for boot money. Those things are expensive._ She pushed her way through the barbed wire, entering the cabin. Sherman and Miranda were cuddling in one of the beds, sucking face. “A’ight, guys. Ten drachma and I won’t tell Chiron about what’s happening here.”

Miranda jumped up. She ran for Clarisse, taking her in a hug. “Oh, gods, Clarisse! I’m so glad you’re feeling better!”

Clarisse blushed. “... Yeah, yeah. I’m glad I’m better too. Thanks.”

Miranda laughed. “You’re welcome.”

Sherman sat up. “What happened? Did you get jumped by monsters on your way home?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clarisse lied. “I got jumped. By a giant with a mace. Just fucking bludgeoned me out of nowhere. I barely even saw it before it had crushed my ribs. It was wild. You should’ve been there.”

Sherman snorted. “Yeah. That sounds wild. Well, good job not dying, I guess. Even if Chris, Miranda and chodebreath from Apollo had to go save your ass.”

Clarisse sighed. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. Anyway, I’m fine now, so it doesn’t matter.” Clarisse stormed to her locker and pulled out her spare bootlace from where she’d stored it in her emergency kit. She sat down on the edge of one of the benches and began relacing her boot. “So stop talking about it.”

“Wasn’t really talking about it to start with,” Sherman grumbled. 

“Come on, Sherm,” Miranda crooned. “If Clarisse doesn’t want something talked about, it doesn’t need to be talked about. It’s not an unfair request.”

Sherman shrugged. “... Well… I guess not.” He sighed heavily, lying back. “Anyway, my girl, you wanna… come back over here?”

Miranda sighed. She looked over at Clarisse. “What was that you were saying regarding bribing you?”

Clarisse looked up. She fixed Miranda with a small smile. “Don’t worry about it. It was a joke.”

Miranda smiled sweetly. “Thanks, Risse.” She curled back up against Sherman. “It means a lot.”

Clarisse nodded. She finished fixing her bootlace and stood up. “Yeah. Don’t worry. I don’t give a shit what you do.” She yawned. “Anyway, Sherm, if you get her pregnant, I’m neutering you. That’s a promise. I’m going to the forges to fix my armor. It’s all dented. I’ll see you later.”

“Seeya, Risse!” Miranda called.

“Seeya, girlie! Have fun with him!” Clarisse responded, pushing her way out the door. 

And with that, she left to undo the last bit of physical damage that Ares had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is my deal with beating up Clarisse? She's the only female character I ever really beat up save for the first chapter of "The Things Love Can Overlook" where Miranda gets that treatment and a few times where I've made Meg get sick. And a vomit scene with Annabeth in one drabble whose name and number I don't remember. Save that, the females get halfway decent treatment in my stuff. 
> 
> My inner whump fan is telling me to change that, but it's also telling me to beat up Percy some more. Weird as it sounds, Percy's kinda cute when he's unconscious.
> 
> Also, maybe I'll write whatever Nico was doing when Will checked on him for the next drabble. Maybe I won't. I don't know.
> 
> Also also, the reason I wrote another drabble where someone gets beat up by their dad is because I recently read Demigod Files for the first time and found the scene where Clarisse basically admits she's scared of Ares being disappointed in her. That's it. That's the reasoning.


	104. Non-shippy (implied Percabeth)-Support an Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy is looking for Meg, but he finds trouble instead in the form of Ares's entire bloodline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of child abuse. Percy is PTSD. Fights ensue. Of the physical variety.
> 
> Yet another request fill for Rex88! I'm super flattered that you keep coming back! 
> 
> For the record, this is connected to the last drabble, "Aching Ribs," and deals with the same events.

Percy had been upset for three straight hours. 

He hadn’t found Meg anywhere at camp. He hadn’t found her on Olympus. Apollo had denied being with her. He’d wandered aimlessly around Olympus after that, randomly hitting trees and rocks and busted columns with his sword. He just needed to let off the steam. He knew that he was risking having to lay smack on yet another deity due to it, but he was entirely beyond caring. He was tired, grumpy and worried. 

He briefly considered trying to sneak into Apollo’s temple and sack it, just in case Apollo was lying, but then he remembered something Annabeth had told him a while back. Something about Apollo being the god of truth. Needless to say, that put a damper in his plan. 

He stumbled into the gardens, the flowers glowing orange in the light of the setting sun. They were pretty and small and fragile. Something Percy could stomp to death if he wanted. He took a deep breath, looking around.  _ Okay. You’re not gonna get anywhere with finding Meg if you go in furiously. It won’t be helpful. Not for you, not for Meg, not for anyone. _

He saw something glowing over the side of a small hedge.  _ What is that? It’s obviously a trap,  _ he thought. _ But it’s shiny and glowy, is anything shiny and glowy ever bad? Yes, constantly. Literally every time. It’s such a bad idea.  _

Before he knew it, he was over the hedge and running for the light.

There was a stringy-haired girl lying on the ground. Her armor was visibly dented on one side. Percy’s heart stopped.  _ Clarisse? What the hell? What could even… what?  _

He knelt down next to her, shaking her slightly. “Clarisse?”

No answer. She didn’t even budge. Looking closer, he could see that an entire half of her face was black and blue. Blood was trickling from her lips, her nose. 

“Clarisse? Come on, man, wake up!” 

She didn’t respond. He could hear her wheezing slightly, but her breathing was shallow. Her mouth was hanging open, and her jaw lolled open and shut as she gasped. 

Percy stood up.  _ Okay. She’s alive. She’s  _ barely  _ alive, but she is alive. I gotta do something.  _

_ I’m calling Chiron.  _

He willed a small spray of water to emerge from his fingertips. “Chiron,” he muttered. “Camp Half-Blood. Long Island, New York.”

The Iris-message flickered to life. The reassuring face of the old centaur appeared on the other side. “Son,” Chiron said affectionately. “Did you find Meg?”

“No,” Percy panted. “But… we have an emergency. It’s… it’s Clarisse. She… I found her in the gardens of Olympus. She’s unconscious and bleeding and barely conscious. You need to send someone,” Percy begged. “She’s gonna die.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll send a heal-”

“Not any healer. You’re sending Will Solace. No other,” Percy ordered. 

“I’ll send Will Solace and a couple others,” Chiron promised. 

“What was she even up here to do?” Percy asked. “Who called for her?”

“Ares wanted to speak to her,” Chiron replied. 

Chiron said something else, but Percy didn’t hear it. His stomach felt cold. He could  _ feel  _ his blood boil, rage tear at his nerves. Sure, Clarisse hated him. But every fiber of his being loathed those who hurt their children. And Clarisse had been hurt terribly. 

In his mind, it was not a coincidence. 

He swatted out the Iris-message without waiting to see what Chiron would do. He ran for the Olympian throne room, the gardens and path turning to a blur. Something tore at his lungs, whether it was rage or exhaustion, he couldn’t tell. He exploded through the doors, sending them flying open wildly. 

The first thing he saw was Apollo pointing an arrow at him.

“Put that thing down. I’m not here for you,” Percy gasped out. “Where’s Ares?”

“Here.”  Percy turned.  Ares was leaning on the doorframe. “What do you want? Trust me, I’m in a bad mood. You don’t want to fuck with me right now.”

“Oh, I think I  _ do  _ want to fuck with you,” Percy shot. “What the hell happened to Clarisse?”

Ares’s fiery eyes burned a little brighter. “That is none of your business.”

“Oh, I think it  _ is!  _ She’s near  _ death  _ right now! What the hell did you do?”

Ares stepped towards Percy. “What I do to  _ my  _ daughter…” He grabbed the hem of Percy’s shirt, “... is none of your business.”

Percy yanked himself away. “You’re fucking crazy,” he growled. “Men like you should be neutered. You should be fucking  _ sterilized  _ for what you did to her.”

Ares drew a sword from his belt. “You’ll pay for that. You know that, right?”

“If it means your kids don’t have to, then yes, I’ll pay all fucking day!” Percy drew his own sword and leapt at Ares, stabbing wildly at his heart. 

Ares parried him with a fierce whack. “My kids do not pay for your actions.”

Percy rolled back. He held out his hands. The central fountain exploded, sending bits of stone and gravel shooting into Ares’s chest. The powerful wall of water sent Ares reeling for approximately one half second before he recovered, lunging at Percy with a fierce bellow. “My kids pay for  _ their  _ actions, and  _ their  _ actions  _ alone!”  _ His sword made contact with Percy’s chest as he rolled, gashing open his skin even under the armor he’d been wearing. Percy howled in pain.

Ares took the opportunity. He grabbed Percy’s arm, wrenching it, sending Percy down to his knees. He stomped down on Percy’s ankles with one combat boot. “And now you, son of Poseidon, will pay for yours!”

Percy grunted. He couldn’t get his arm to work against Ares’s grip. He wriggled his feet against Ares’s brutal boot, but his feet wouldn’t budge. He reached for his sword and found that it was roughly six inches from where he could touch.  _ … Well, he’s going to kill me. I hope Annabeth knows I love her… and my mom, too.  _

_ … Is this how Clarisse feels when Ares hurts her? _

Percy growled. He felt the ichor flowing through Ares’s veins, stirring beneath the surface. His life. His immortality. All of his greatness flowed in those vessels. He felt it even more acutely when Ares put a hand around his neck. “The sword is too merciful for one like you,” Ares growled. “You’re going more slowly.”

Percy didn’t respond, not even as Ares tightened his grip, not even when his head began to feel like it was going to explode, not even when his eyes felt like they were going to burst from his head.  _ Burst,  _ Percy thought.  _ Burst. Break. You’re made of water, aren’t you? Be free. You wanna be free. You don’t wanna be in this dude’s body anymore. You could do better. You’d look so much prettier splattered all over the floor.  _

Percy’s concentration was broken when Ares leapt back, howling. Percy could see bright gold patches appearing beneath the skin on his wrists and hands. “What the fuck was…”

“Poseidon’s secret,” Percy grunted, staggering to his feet. “You and I have as much water in us as the sea has. Are you sure you want to come at me again?”

Ares scanned Percy’s face. “Perseus Jackson.”

“Good job,” Percy cooed in response. “You got it right. Good job.”

Ares scowled darkly. “My daughter does not like you.”

“I’m aware of that,” Percy replied. 

“It is disgusting that you defend her, even now. Even to someone who only truly desired to make her stronger. Perseus Jackson, you do not defend an enemy. Not even to a greater enemy,” Ares growled. “Never.”

“Clarisse isn’t my enemy,” Percy replied. “Frenemy, perhaps. But not my enemy. You, however…” Percy took a step closer, scanning his face. “... are on shakier ground.”

“There is no shaky ground on my end,” Ares growled. “I despise you.”

“And I despise men who beat their children,” Percy replied. “Now, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave now. And you won’t harm a fuckin’ hair on Clarisse’s head ever again. I mean, she’s terrified of you. How would you feel if you were terrified of your own father?”

“Normal, boy. Normal.” Ares nodded coldly. “Unfortunately, and for a multitude of reasons, I am unable to kill you. However, I promise that every time it truly matters, every time you need it most, every time  _ that girl  _ you love is in danger…” Ares took a step towards Percy, putting them chest-to-chest. “... weapons will fail you, and your arms will become as weak as my daughter just proved herself to be.”

And with that, Ares vanished.

When Percy opened his eyes, he was alone in the throne room. 

He looked back. The top of the fountain had been entirely blown off.  _ Shit. I gotta go before they discover that it was me. I mean, I know Ares will absolutely rat me out, but that doesn’t mean I have to be there when it happens.  _

He walked out of the throne room in a daze. The sun had set, Percy could see the reassuring shapes of constellations in the sky. He walked, not really thinking about where he was going.  _ So… Ares beats his daughter. Zeus torments Ares. Kronos tried to kill Zeus. Ouranos abused Kronos. It’s the fucking cycle of life. It goes all through the generations! It’s fucking beautiful!  _

_ In the same way a rotting, roadkilled raccoon is beautiful, anyway. _

He opened his eyes fully. He was back in the gardens where he’d found Clarisse. There was nothing there, no Clarisse, no chariot. He looked down. There was a smudge of blood by his shoe. Looking around some more, he saw chariot tracks in the nearby flowers.  _ Please let that be Will’s flying chariot. Please let it not be Ares who nabbed her. Please. Don’t let the world be that cruel. Sure, she’s not the best lady… girl… woman around. But she doesn’t deserve this.  _

_ This is fucking torture. _

Percy whistled loudly, scanning the sky. A familiar black shape swooped in.  _ ‘Sup, boss? It’s been a while! _

“Blackjack,” Percy nodded affectionately. “Yeah, I wanted to give you a break after everything that happened with Gaea. I wanted to give you some time to heal physically, you know?”

Blackjack ducked his head.  _ Aw, boss. You shouldn’t have. You’ve always been too good to me. I mean, it’s been what, four years? I was starting to think you just didn’t want me around anymore. Or you’d found a better ride or something. _

“Naw, man,” Percy reassured, mounting Blackjack. “You’re always gonna be my friend. Don’t worry about it.”

_ Thanks.  _ Percy could feel the affection radiating off of Blackjack.  _ Means a lot.  _

They took off. Blackjack swooped down quickly through the cloud layer, sending Percy’s stomach lurching into his throat. At any other time, Percy would have loved to see the New York skyline in this way, but now his emotions were just too messed up for him to have enjoyed the pretty lights.  _ I never thought I’d be thinking this unironically, but… poor Clarisse. _

They quickly left the city behind. Percy scanned the ground below, looking for the lights of camp. It wasn’t long before he found it. “Go ahead and land,” he ordered.

Blackjack landed on Half-Blood Hill. Almost predictably, Meg greeted him at Thalia’s Tree. “You were looking for me?”

Percy dismounted Blackjack. “Yeah. Where did you go?”

“I went to go visit your mom,” Meg replied. 

“Shut  _ up,”  _ Percy sighed. “Seriously, I don’t have the energy to deal with this right now.”

Meg laughed. “All right, all right. I’ll stop. No, seriously, I’m all right. Did you hear about the party that brought Clarisse home?”

“Yeah. I sent it. Don’t wish to discuss further,” Percy replied. He thought back to the words Clarisse had said when he’d first learned she was scared of Ares.  _ Don’t even mention it. Like, seriously, don’t even mention it. _

Meg snorted. “That’s noble of you. Wonder what the hell happened to her.”

“I don’t know,” Percy lied. “I don’t think we’ll ever find out.”

“Yeah. Knowing her, we never will.”

Percy nodded, turning back to Blackjack. “You can go now, man.”

_ Can I stay the night in the stables? I’m hungry and thirsty and tired. _

“Sure. Stay as long as you need.” Percy patted Blackjack’s shoulder. “That’s always been the arrangement, man.”

_ Thanks, boss! Seeya later! _

“Seeya, man.” Percy turned as Blackjack flew off. “... I’m gonna go see how bad Clarisse is. I… I’m morbidly curious.”

“Report back if it’s anything interesting,” Meg called. 

“Will do,” Percy sighed. He walked down the hill to the Big House, slipping through the front door and going down the side hallway to the infirmary. The infirmary was empty; Percy could only vaguely hear soft talking behind a nearby door. He knocked quietly.

Will opened it. “Oh, hey, man.”

“... How is she?” Percy blurted. 

Will puffed his cheeks. “Oh, gods, where do I start? She’s got two broken ribs and another cracked one. Her ankle is twisted and swollen to twice its size. She’s covered in bruises head to toe. Her face is battered. She has a split lip that needed two stitches and a slashmark on her tummy that needed five. Her face is bruised to a point where most women would consider themselves disfigured. I couldn’t get her to wake at all. I could barely get a moan out of her.”

Percy closed his eyes. He had a flashback to way back when Gabe had thrown him down a flight of stairs. He’d been in the hospital for almost two months with a broken leg.

He’d been five years old. 

“... Tell her... sorry,” Percy replied. “She’s not gonna want to hear it from me, so… just tell her you’re sorry in my stead.”

“Will do.”

“And tell her I found her, okay?”

“All right. Either Chris or I will tell her that.”

Percy nodded. “Thanks. Means a lot.”

Will nodded. “It’s cool, man. You and I are all cool. And Clarisse is gonna heal. I’ve treated worse.”

“That’s a good thing,” Percy replied. “I trust your expertise.”

Will gave a sunny smile. “Thanks, man.”

Percy nodded. “Welcome.” He yawned. “... I gotta go. I’m pissed off and tired and I want to sleep. Or at least sit in my cabin and eat Doritos until I vomit on myself. One or the other.”

“I cannot medically endorse that last option,” Will replied. “But I also can’t control you. Do what you do, but don’t cry to me if you do throw up.”

“I won’t. I’ll cry to Annabeth instead like a  _ proper  _ man,” Percy replied with a level of fake haughtiness in his voice. 

Will laughed. “Ah, well. Don’t get too sick.”

Percy nodded. “Will do, man. See you later.”

“See you later, Percy.”


	105. Non-shippy-Don't Play Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a continuation of the last two drabbles. Clarisse and Percy talk about what happened with Ares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of child abuse.

“You did  _ what  _ to  _ who _ because  _ why?” _

Clarisse’s acidic tone wasn’t lost on Percy. “... Uh.”

“You could spit it out  _ just fucking fine  _ the first time. Don’t tell me you’re suddenly lost for words.” The dim light of the forges made Clarisse look even angrier, her casual lean against the wall didn’t manage to help. “So spit it out.”

“I fought Ares because I thought he was the reason you got all those injuries,” Percy managed. “I just figured… like… you’re not easy to take down, and there aren’t even monsters on Olympus, so…”

Clarisse put her arm over her face. Her shoulders shook. At first, Percy thought she was winding up for a punch. Then, she dropped her arm. She was grinning widely, wider than Percy had ever seen her smile. “Jackson…” she started.

His eyes fell on her sharply pointed canines. “Uh… yes?”

“Are you really that much of a  _ douche?” _

“... I… wait, are you insulting me for trying to defend your honor to your father?”

“I’m insulting you for forcibly shoehorning yourself into the family dynamic of someone you hate,” Clarisse laughed. “It’s just fucking stupid.”

Percy stepped back. “... I just… I thought you were being beat, I… I wanted to make sure that… I don’t know. Children don’t deserve to be beat up by their parents.”

Clarisse grabbed Percy’s shirt collar and hauled him hard against the wall. Percy grunted. “I’m not a fucking  _ child,”  _ Clarisse hissed. “Look,  _ Jackson,  _ I know you like to play hero, but I don’t need your help. So fuck off, will you?”

Percy shifted. “... Okay. I… I just wanted to… I mean…”

“You felt bad because you decided protection of people from their parents was the hill you’re gonna die on, and so when you found me all beat up, you found an opportunity to display how much of a ‘good guy’ you were, even though you never had the right to insert yourself the way you did.” Clarisse dropped Percy, sending him stumbling.

“I… I’m sorry,” Percy replied once he’d regained his footing. “I just thought… I thought that maybe I could get Ares to stop… hurting you…”

“Are you even sure it was him?” Clarisse snorted.

“He admitted it,” Percy snapped. “He straight-up admitted it.”

Clarisse was silent. She turned back to the armor she was fixing, kneeling in front of it. “... Still. You shouldn’t insert yourself into other people’s lives. If Ares beats me, it’s between me and him and  _ maybe  _ Chris. Not you.”

“... Well, you’re welcome for finding you at least,” Percy grumbled.

Clarisse gave him a long look. “... Thank you for that, actually. That was the one thing you actually did right. Good job.”

“... Thanks,” Percy replied. 

“Don’t mention it,” Clarisse muttered. 

Percy watched as Clarisse began hammering her armor once more. “... I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “... for upsetting you.”

“Shut up about it,” Clarisse grumbled. “And don’t you  _ dare  _ let anyone hear about this, understand? The others can’t learn that I’m able to be cowed. It’ll ruin everything I’ve worked so hard for.”

Percy nodded. “... I’ll keep quiet about it. Don’t worry.”

Clarisse fixed him with an angry scowl. “You’d better.

“For your own sake, you’d better.”


	106. Non-shippy-Owe Her One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda and Katie have been giving each other the silent treatment for years following a fall-out. Today is the day they apologize to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of eating disorders.
> 
> For the most of you that haven’t read “His Girl” (another fic I wrote) I HC that Katie and Miranda had a huge falling out shortly after Manhattan, which is why Miranda was the head counselor post-Manhattan and Katie was head counselor pre-Manhattan. After writing “The Things Love Can Overlook”, I think this is a better make-up story than what I tried to write in “Ivy”.
> 
> Anyway, for those who have read TTLCO, this takes place shortly after Miranda gets out of the infirmary at the beginning of the fic.

“I’m sorry.”

Miranda raised her head. Katie was sitting cross-legged on her bed across Cabin 4. She looked like she’d been crying. “... For what?”

“... Everything,” Katie whispered. “So many things. Our big fight a couple years ago. So much. And now… when they told me you were in hospital a couple days ago… I just… the guilt got to be too much. So… I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have rejected you the way that I did. It isn’t right.”

Miranda was silent for a few moments. “... Katie, I…”

“If you’re not ready to forgive me, I understand that. It’s okay.”

“Katie, look. I love you. I’ve wanted our sisterhood back since the moment it broke up. I just… there’s so much I don’t know how to process. I don’t know how to process why you’d abandon me over a petty little fight. I don’t know why you wouldn’t speak to me for two years over something unimportant.” 

“It was a stupid mistake,” Katie whispered. “It was a really stupid petty-ass mistake. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Miranda, I want our sisterhood back too. I want to be able to laugh with you like we did back then. I’d do anything to get you back. I’m so sorry.” Katie’s voice broke.

“... It’s not okay. It’s not ever gonna be okay. But I do forgive you. It was just after Manhattan. You were stressed. It’s okay.” Miranda stood up shakily, wobbling over to Katie, falling on her bed. 

Katie took her by the shoulders, pulling her so she was curled up fully on the bed. “You’re too sweet, Miranda. You really are. I’m so sorry.”

Miranda gave a small sigh. “... Look. You hurt me. You hurt me deeply. And I don’t know why you did it. I’m willing to forgive you, but it’ll take a while.”

“That’s fair,” Katie murmured. She reached out. “May I give you a hug?”

Miranda nodded. Katie lay down, pulling Miranda close, holding her tight. “‘M sorry,” Katie murmured, burying her face in Miranda’s hair. “‘M sorry. I’m sorry I hit you. I’m sorry I rejected you. I should never have hit you. I should never have yelled at you. It was such a mistake.

“Such a terrible mistake.”

Miranda gave a small nod. “... It was,” she mumbled. “It was. You made a mistake and it hurt me a lot. This hug feels good and your words are sweet, but it’s not gonna make it perfect.”

“... I know,” Katie mumbled. “I know. And I’m so sorry.” She kissed Miranda’s hair. “I’m so sorry.”

Miranda closed her eyes. She let herself linger against Katie’s warm body, feeling her fingertips stroking over her neck. She’d forgotten how good it felt to be in Katie’s arms.

“... You’re so bony,” Katie suddenly said. “Did they feed you in hospital?”

Miranda felt a sudden sting in her eyes. “... Y-yeah,” she sniffled. “They fed me real well.”

“Good,” Katie nodded. She flinched suddenly. “... What did you do to put yourself in hospital?”

Miranda was silent. Katie felt her shake slightly. “... I… I don’t… Same thing you always did.”

“Come on, Mimi, you know you need at least one proper meal a day in order not to collapse,” Katie nagged. “Now you’re so skinny they’re gonna have to force-feed you.”

Miranda’s heart broke at the old nickname. “They already did,” Miranda sniffled. “Oh, gods, Katie, I just… I just wanted to be skinny and pretty like you. I’m so sorry.”

Katie held her a little tighter. “But you are. You and I are literal clones, pretty much. We’re nearly identical. Sure, you’re a little shorter than me, and your hair is a little lighter, but other than that, we’re very similar. And you are  _ very  _ beautiful.”

“Says who?” Miranda sniffled. “Says fucking who?”

“Says me. Says Sherman.” 

Miranda closed her eyes. “... Sherman  _ does  _ think I’m beautiful. Holy shit, I never saw that before.”

Katie tugged at Miranda’s hair. “Of course he does, dummy. That boy loves you to bits. I can see it in his eyes. Don’t worry about Sherman.”

Miranda gave a small nod. “... I won’t.”

“Good,” Katie reassured. “Also, men like girls who are healthier. They don’t want to have to worry that you’re gonna collapse on them.”

“Clarisse told me we could work out together, actually,” Miranda half-chuckled. “To help build up my strength without me putting on too much weight.”

“Oh, gods,” Katie snorted. “I forgot that you somehow befriended her.”

“Yeah. She’s… actually a surprisingly good friend. I’m lucky to have her.” Miranda nuzzled closer into Katie’s chest. “... And… I’m lucky to have you too, now. Katie, I hope you know how much your apology means to me. The fact that you… the fact that you took initiative on this is everything to me.” Miranda’s voice broke. “It’s just everything to me.”

Katie gently rubbed a hand over her back. “... I’m sorry, Mimi. I’m so sorry. I wish I hadn’t been so cruel to you. It wasn’t right. I’m sorry.”

Miranda closed her eyes. “... I love you. It’s okay. Just… do you really think I’m a whore? Like you called me in our fight all those years ago?”

Miranda felt Katie’s chest shake with laughter. “Fuck no! If anyone,  _ I’m  _ the whore in this siblinghood. Don’t worry about a damn thing, Mimi.”

Miranda relaxed. “Good. Because if there’s one thing I know about men, it’s that they don’t like slutty girls.”

“Can’t blame them,” Katie laughed. “No one likes genital rot. Also, I only called you a whore because you called  _ me  _ a whore, remember?”

Miranda pinched her. “Don’t be crude. But I am  _ really  _ sorry for insulting you. It wasn’t right. I won’t do it again, I swear on the Styx.”

“And I swear on the Styx that I won’t insult you the way that I did ever again,” Katie promised. 

Miranda nodded. She relaxed more into Katie’s arms. “... Thank you so much. I… I need you, okay? I do.”

Katie kissed her forehead. “I need you too. I’m sorry I ever pretended that I didn’t. It wasn’t right of me.”

Miranda looked up, making eye contact. Katie’s vivid green eyes were vibrant against her bloodshot sclera. “You’re right. It wasn’t. But you’re my sister. You deserve another chance, okay? So don’t tell yourself you don’t.”

Katie leaned her forehead against Miranda’s. “... You’re the best. See, that’s another way in which you’re better than I am. You’ve got a better heart.”

Miranda put an arm around Katie’s waist. She realized she’d been holding her arm between herself and Katie, almost as if she was trying to protect herself. “... Thanks,” she smiled. “Compliments help.”

Katie nodded. “Expect more of them.”

Miranda smiled wider than she’d smiled in a while. “Thanks.”  _ She’s serious about apologizing. She really wants me back. Oh, gods, I’m so light inside. So happy. It’s so good.  _ “I really mean it. Thanks.”

Katie gave her another kiss on the forehead, longer this time, as if she was blessing her. “Of course. I love you. You’re so sweet.”

“... I’m so happy you came around and apologized,” Miranda murmured. “Means a lot.”

Katie nodded. They cuddled for a few more minutes. Miranda had the sudden realization that she was falling asleep, but Katie was so warm and good that Miranda didn’t want to move.

Katie heard her breathing become slow and even.  _ … She’s asleep in my arms. That’s so sweet. She’s so cute. And I owe her a good cuddle. Yeah, I’m just gonna hold her for now. _

_ I owe her one. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried to write the Miranda/Katie forgiveness moment like three times now. It's never been fully satisfactory for me. I don't know if this one is either, but here it is. Maybe I'll retcon in something else later.
> 
> Hell, maybe I'll rewrite "His Girl"


	107. Non-shippy-Cracks Begin To Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HC that Travis can see ghosts (because Hermes guides souls to the afterlife and that). It drove him nuts as a kid because no one else could see his "imaginary friends." There were definitely some people who thought he was schizophrenic for it, but tests came up inconclusive. Fortunately.
> 
> Warning for mentions of violence, self-harm, PTSD, and mentions of sexual stuff. Also insults focused on those who self-harm. And insulting comments about the nature of psychological hospital wards.
> 
> This chapter has been edited slightly since first release because my dumb ass fucked up the timeline.

“Why isn’t Travis here again?” Chris asked, turning to Connor. 

Connor looked up from where he sat at the breakfast table. “He said he wasn’t feeling very well. He didn’t give me any specifics.”

Chris sighed. “... Oh, no,” he cooed. “Poor Travis. I… I’ll take him some food. I think he’d like that.”

Connor shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Yeah. He would. That guy loves to eat.”

Chris laughed. “Who doesn’t?” He stood up and gathered some toast, an apple and a bottle of water from the nearby food table. _This shouldn’t mess up his stomach too much._ He smiled, satisfied with himself. _Yeah, this should help him a little._ He turned and walked away. It was only a moment before he slipped into the dark of the Hermes cabin. “Bro?”

He heard a stirring from Travis’s top bunk bed. “... What do you need?” 

Chris thought his voice sounded strange. “Hey, man, you okay? I brought you some food.”

“... ‘M not hungry,” Travis almost moaned. 

“... Want me to come up? Just to keep you company? You sound like you could use some company.”

Travis sniffled. “... Sure.” 

Chris hauled himself up onto Travis’s bed. Travis was curled up under a thick comforter, only his shaggy brown curls were visible. Chris patted his shoulder. “I’m here now, man.”

Travis peeked out from under the comforter. His face was red and streaked with tears. “... I’m sorry. For not being able to be at breakfast today. I… I… it’s too… I’m sorry.”

“Are you in pain? Do you need the infirmary? I mean, if you’re so sick you’re in tears then we need to get you help immediately. I could get Will to help carry you if you need.”

Travis sniffled. “... I’m… I’m not the kind of sick that needs the infirmary.”

“What does that mean?” Chris asked.

“I… I think I might be cracking up,” Travis whimpered. The stress in his face was plain to see. “Oh, gods, I think I’m losing it. Chris, you gotta help me.”

“Okay. Okay.” Chris pet Travis’s hair in what he hoped was a reassuring motion. “Take a deep breath. It’ll be okay. Why are you so upset? Can you name a reason?”

“... It’s all my fault,” Travis managed, a few more tears trickling down his cheeks. “Manhattan… all those deaths… all my fault. Because I… I couldn’t convince Luke to stay. It’s all my fault.”

Chris’s eyebrows furrowed. “Travis, that is absolutely untrue. You are _not_ the reason Manhattan happened. You are _not_ the reason Luke defected. None of it is your fault. You’ve been nothing but good to all of us.” He brushed a hand over Travis’s hair. 

“But what about… them?” Travis gestured across the room to a small pile of abused helmets. Chris recognized them as the helmets that he and Travis had scavenged off of their dead siblings post-battle. “Do you think they would agree with what you just said?”

Chris paused. “I hope so. I think they’d blame Luke before they blamed you, but maybe I’m just stupid. I don’t know.”

“I hope so,” Travis sniffled. 

Chris studied Travis’s face a little more. “... What do you think would help your current situation? What would make you feel better?”

“... I… I don’t know,” Travis sniffled. “I… I feel so fucking guilty for… for everything that’s happening. Chris, I… I’m the older brother, you know? I should have been able to protect them, but… I didn’t, and now they’re _gone_ and… and it’s all my fault…” He hiccuped, burying his face in his comforter as a fresh bout of tears spilled over his cheeks. 

Chris leaned against Travis’s blanketed body. “... As _your_ older brother, I feel a duty to try to keep you from this pain. Please, understand that it _isn’t_ your fault, and that it never was. Luke chose his path. It was the path that killed, injured and scarred a lot of good people. Neither you nor I nor anyone could have changed that.” He hugged Travis through the blankets, rubbing his shoulder gently. “There’s no such thing as a bloodless battle, Trav. You know this.”

Travis sobbed softly into his blanket. “Why am I alive? Why did they die? Why them and not me?”

Chris squoze him. “... I don’t know. Honestly, I have the same feelings. I mean, some would say _I_ deserve to die for staying with Ares and staying out of it rather than fighting from the start with you guys. In response to your question, all I can say is that I choose to hope that we lived because the Fates have some sort of grand design for us.”

“... Like a writer killing off a character in a show or book or something because they don’t know how to complete the character arc,” Travis sniffled. “... That’s so… _arbitrary.”_

“... For me, it makes it feel less arbitrary,” Chris murmured. “But then again, I was always taught to believe in a grand design.”

“... That’s the difference between us, I think. I was never taught to believe such things.”

Chris nodded. “Yeah. No, I… I find some level of belief in something comforting. Takes some of the randomness out of life, you know?”

“Whatever keeps you from jumping off the roof of the Big House, man,” Travis sniffled. 

Chris chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you care for my mental health so much. But we got _really_ off topic. We were talking about possible ways to improve _your_ mental health. I think… I think what you’re really struggling with is the weight of responsibility. As co-head-counselor and second oldest sibling, you feel a need to care for us, right?”

Travis sniffled. “... Right.”

“That’s not the same as cracking up,” Chris soothed. “Struggling isn’t the same as losing it. You still know who you are. You still know where you are. You still know who you love, and who loves you. You may not know _why_ you are, or _how_ you are, but you’re still… _present,_ you know? Unless I’m missing something.”

Travis choked out a sob. “... You… you are.”

“Okay,” Chris murmured. “What happened?”

Travis sniffled. “... Luke… his ghost’s been… like… hanging around here ever since Manhattan.”

Chris frowned. “What does he want? Is that his punishment, just to hang around here for all eternity?”

“I don’t know. He’s just there. And I can’t say anything about it when the others are around because… because I’ll look crazy, and I don’t want to disturb them either, so I’m just stuck with this constant fucking… constant fucking _reminder,_ right? And it’s just poking and poking and poking at me and I… I…” Travis took a deep breath. “Yesterday I kind of snapped.”

“And what happened then?”

“I… I had this idea… which in retrospect was really idiotic. The idea was that if I banged a girl in his bed and busted on his pillow maybe he’d leave.”

Chris snorted. “You’re right. That is really stupid.”

“I mean, you get the logic, right? No man wants to see his brother fuck on his bed.”

“No, I get the logic. It’s still stupid, though. Anyway, how did _that_ go?”

“I went to Lou Ellen and asked her if she would do it with me, because she’s the type of girl that would, right? And she agreed because as I said, she’s the type of girl that would. So we--”

“Spare me the details,” Chris moaned. _“Please.”_

“Okay. We did it. And afterwards I get up off her and I see that Luke is just fucking standing there with this… this look on his face.” Travis’s voice broke. “And that’s when I blacked out. I woke up lying on the floor ass naked with scratches all over my body and the words _WHY CHOOSE ME AS YOUR VESSEL_ scribbled on the wall in blood.”

Chris raised his eyebrows. “Holy shit. What happened? Do you know?”

“Lou Ellen told me I charged Luke’s ghost ass naked and tried to hit him with my sword. Apparently I was screaming the whole time. She said when he disappeared so to avoid getting whacked I started crying and slashing at my arms with my sword. She had to wrestle me to the ground to get me to stop hurting myself.” Travis sniffled. “I… I felt like such a piece of shit when she told me that.”

“Did that leave marks?” Chris asked dumbly. He didn’t really know how to respond.

Travis sat up, casting his blanket off his body. His arms, shoulders and chest were covered in deep gashes. “I don’t know how many of these will leave scars.”

Chris scanned Travis’s arms. “... Yeah. These look deep. You’re gonna have some scars.”

A fresh bout of tears coursed down Travis’s cheeks. “I swear, I’m not some little self-harming attention seeking bitch. I blacked out, I swear on the Styx!”

“I don’t think you’re a bitch. I get it. I’ve blacked out before. I’m not upset at you,” Chris soothed. 

“... And ever since that happened, I’ve been… I’ve been so fucking _scared,_ you know? I’m worried that I’ll be… be out doing something and I’ll turn around and he’s there, and I’ll black out, and when I wake up I’ll have accidentally… accidentally hurt or killed someone, or I’ll accidentally hurt myself and get… and get locked up for a really long time in one of those places where they castrate you with no anesthesia and cut out chunks of your brain for shits and giggles,” Travis sniffled. “Oh, gods, Chris, I’ve never been so scared.”

Chris nodded. “... Look, Travis. If you do go insane, we’ll have Dionysus take care of it. Like they did to me. We’re not sending you anywhere, okay?”

Travis met Chris’s gaze, gratitude in his reddened eyes. “... Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

Chris laughed. “No problem. Glad to be able to make you feel a little better.”

Travis took a deep breath. He stared at his hands, which he held clasped in his lap. He was silent for a long time, long enough that Chris got uncomfortable. “... I’ve been thinking about stepping down as Head Counselor… ever since this incident I’ve been thinking… I mean, they said _you_ couldn’t be Head Counselor because of your insanity, why not me?”

“They said I couldn’t be Head Counselor because I was a traitor, not because I went crazy. I think you’re fine,” Chris soothed.

Travis put his head in his knees. “I… I don’t want… I don’t want to… to black out and… and lead the cabin to ruin.” His voice was barely above a whimper. “I should step down. For the good of everyone, I should step down.”

Chris patted his shoulder. “If you want to, I can’t stop you. In fact, it may be good for your mental health inasmuch as it’ll lighten the load on your shoulders a bit. But in the end it’s your decision, okay?”

Travis nodded. “... I know.” He was quiet for a long time. “Will you call Connor in, please?”

“Will do,” Chris obliged. He crawled down out of Travis’s bed. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Take your time,” Travis croaked. “I… I need some time to collect myself anyway.”

It was a few minutes before Chris returned with Connor. Travis had moved so he was sitting cross-legged on Connor’s bed. He’d put on a sweatshirt, presumably to hide the gashes over his body. “Connor.”

“Hey, man. You feeling a little better?”

Travis took a deep breath. “Look, Con-con. Chris and I were talking and…” He trailed off, staring at his hands. He sighed. 

“And?” Connor flopped down on his bed next to Travis. 

“Um.” Travis couldn’t speak.

Chris wandered aimlessly across the room, awkwardly fiddling with a drachma. “You can do it. I believe in you.”

Travis took a deep breath. “I’m stepping down. As Head Counselor.”

Connor gave him a funny look. “Why? Who’s gonna replace you?”

“You,” Travis said bluntly. “You and I have been co-counselors for a while and since I’m going off to college in not very long anyway I think it’s a good time for you to take the reins.”

Connor was silent for a long time. “... And what if something goes wrong?”

“I’m not _leaving,_ Connor. I’m just transferring some power. If something goes horribly wrong I can step back up. I just want you to be able to do it solo so it’s not such a shock when I _do_ leave.”

Connor nodded. 

Travis scanned his face. He almost looked angry. “... I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I just think that this is the right thing to do. I’m sorry. Besides, haven’t you always bragged about how much better you are at being a Head Counselor than me?”

“... I guess,” Connor grumped, fully knowing that what Travis had said was true.

“Well, now’s your chance to prove it.”

Connor stared up at the slats of Travis’s bunk, right above his. “... Okay. I’ll… I’ll start doing it solo.” He stood up. “I’m gonna go tell Chiron that you’re stepping down like the pussy you are.”

“Rude,” Travis grumbled. 

Connor left without a word. 

“Why didn’t you tell him about your fit?” Chris asked as soon as Connor had closed the door.

“Hear how he called me a pussy? It would have been worse if I’d told him I’d had some kind of psychotic break,” Travis sighed. “Look, I love Connor. I love him with all my heart and soul. And on some level he loves me too. But he thinks I’m… to put it kindly, he thinks I’m soft.”

“You are soft,” Chris replied. “You and me, we’re both pretty soft. Connor’s a hardass, or at least he pretends to be. And a hardass is always going to shit on a soft person. It’s just how it is. But I do think that there will come a time when Connor will need to find out about this, especially if it keeps happening.”

Travis stared at his hands for a long time. “... I guess so. I just…” He trailed off.

“You don’t want to look weak?”

Travis nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I’m his older brother, you know? Between him and Cecil and the newbies I can’t… I can’t afford to look weak.”

Chris crossed the cabin and sat down next to Travis. “Don’t worry too much about it. I think Connor’s still going to love you even if you have a break right in front of him. I mean, he wouldn’t spend almost all his time with you if he didn’t love you.”

Travis gave a tiny smile. “... It seems so obvious when you say it like that.”

“What are friends for?” Chris patted Travis’s back. “Always happy to reassure you.”

Travis leaned in. Chris took him in a hug. “Thanks, man. It means a lot to me.” 

Travis said a silent thanks to his father for bringing Chris into existence and another to Dionysus for restoring his sanity. Chris’s body was warm, it made Travis want to sleep. He had a sudden epiphany--was this what Connor felt when Travis held him? 

Needless to say, it was a few moments before he pulled away. 

Chris spoke first. “You should eat.” He gestured to the plate of food he’d brought Travis, lying abandoned across the room on Chris’s bed. “You missed breakfast.”

Travis nodded halfheartedly. He stood up, wobbled over and grabbed the plate. “Yeah. I’d be starving by lunch if I don’t eat breakfast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're not creative enough about the Hermes kids's powers. There are also a lot of them (a full 6 of them that are currently living and named, more so then any other cabin I believe), so there's no real excuse not to play around imo.


	108. An announcement

I'm going to be on break for a little while. I don't know when I'm coming back. I'm sorry for any inconveniences, but I don't have the energy to write these things anymore. 


	109. Non-shippy- The Boy With The Beautiful Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travis is having a peaceful night. Unfortunately, that won't last long. 
> 
> Quite Nico-centric and contains pre-pre-Solangelo. It'll make sense when you read the fic.
> 
> Set during Titan's Curse, but contains very few mentions of actual canon events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM BACK! I know this isn't a diary, and I don't want it to be, but I had a really rough couple of days. Like, pass-out-in-the-toilet rough. I also learned the lesson that after you reach a certain concentration of epilepsy medication in your system, you lose the ability to walk in a straight line. Anyway, I've overcome (some of) the issues that were preventing me from writing, I think. And I'm not dead, put away or incarcerated. So everything's okay, probably.
> 
> Warnings for vomiting in things that shouldn't be vomited in, theft, and one comment that could be construed as homophobic. But it's pretty mild.
> 
> Oh, yeah. And a mention of an OC. Her name was Summer and she was the healer before Will. She died in the Battle of the Labyrinth and that's when Will took over as healer. She's not super important for this fic, but she does bear mentioning.

Travis loved the twilight.

He loved the moments in between night and day, those moments when people were sunk into half-sleep, vulnerable and soft, feeling yet unable to fight or flee. Not that he would ever take advantage of that. Not that he just had.

He wound the small silver ring around his finger. He’d lifted it off of that newbie di Angelo a few moments prior. Sometimes it paid to be awake when no one else was. Although, frankly, he had no idea if that thing was worth a dime. Knowing his luck, it’d just be some cheap chrome. He’d have to ask Connor about it when he woke up. 

He yawned. He was getting tired himself--it had been a long day. Nico was a cute kid, but it was kind of tiring to be clung to the way Nico was clinging. He chalked it up to anxiety. After all, the kid’s sister had just ditched him and he’d just found out he was the son of a god. He had a right to be anxious. 

Travis was starting to feel kind of shitty for stealing the ring. 

He looked up at the sky. Stars were beginning to appear. He could very faintly begin to see the outline of the Milky Way. He remembered how it had looked when he and Connor had been living out in the desert in Nevada, so bright. It had been the most beautiful thing Travis could remember. He sighed. He wouldn’t see the Milky Way in full tonight. Too much ambient light from the cities. He had to remind himself of that every night. It felt like the loss of an old friend. 

He turned and entered the Hermes cabin. Connor was curled up asleep, the lump of his form familiar beneath the sheets. Travis paused by his bed for a second, watching him sleep. His lips were slightly open. Travis patted his shoulder. “... ‘Night, buddy,” he murmured.

Travis slipped into the crappy cabin bathroom. He studied the ring some more in the light of the lone, dirty bulb. It had a little skull on it, and a tiny bit of dirt, but nothing too special. Travis felt it was odd that such a cheery little kid such as Nico would have such a thing, although maybe the kid was secretly a closet goth. He didn’t know him well enough to pass any judgement. Travis made a point of not judging on first impressions. 

The ring itself didn’t strike him as being special. The more Travis stared at it, the more it looked like something you’d find in any low-end gift store in any part of any city. If he’d received that as a gift, he’d try and pawn it off as something superior to what it was to make a little cash, or regift it to someone who wouldn’t know the difference. He didn’t know if he’d even steal such a thing.  _ Why does he keep this? Just for the aesthetic?  _

He sighed.  _ Well, if this thing is worthless, I’ll just give it back to him. No sense pawning it if it isn’t worth its weight in salt.  _ Shrugging, he left the bathroom, returning to the cabin. He tiptoed up to where Nico was sleeping, curled up with his thumb in his mouth.  _ Okay. Please,  _ please  _ don’t wake up. I really don’t want to have to explain this. _ He held his breath as he took Nico’s hand, slipping the ring back on the tiny, bony finger. 

Suddenly, Nico flinched. He jerked his hand away. Travis jumped back. Nico let out a sound that was halfway between a howl and a moan, tumbling from the bed. He rolled back and forth on the floor, holding his hands over his ears. His breaths came in hics and jerks. “... Bianca…!”

Travis knelt down next to where Nico was convulsing on the ground. “What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare? Are you sick?”

“... She’s gone,” Nico sobbed breathlessly. “She’s... gone. I know sh-she i-is. Oh… gods, I’m… I’m…” His body contorted and he gagged hard. 

Travis grabbed Connor’s old camp backpack from where it was hanging on their bunk and held it to Nico’s lips. “If you’re gonna puke, puke in this. It’ll be better than fouling up the common floor.”

Nico gagged again, burying his face in the backpack. “... Oh... gods!”

Travis patted his back. “You’re okay, man. No one ever died from puking alone.”

Nico whimpered. “... I-it’s go-oing up my no-ose!”

“That’s painful, not fatal. Take a breath, man.” 

Nico pulled away. His eyes were glazed over. Something wet glistened under his nose, on his chin. “... Make… make it stop…  _ please…  _ my stomach… and my head… it hurts… it’s ringing so loud...”

“Do you need the infirmary?” Travis asked. 

Nico groaned. 

“That’s a yes. Here, I can take you.” He looked up, flinching when he saw Connor and Cecil standing behind him, looking on with concern. “Oh, hey guys. Nico’s had a nightmare. I’m gonna take him to the infirmary. Cecil, will you go rouse one of the Apollo kids? We need a healer.”

“... Sure,” Cecil croaked groggily. “I’ll do my best. They don’t do well at night.” He stumbled out the door.

“Thanks. You’re the best. Connor, will you clean this?” He passed Connor his backpack.

“Is this my backpack?” Connor asked.

“... I couldn’t find anything else, okay?” Travis protested. “Would you rather he have yakked up all over the floor?”

“I would rather he have yakked up in your fucking shoe,” Connor grumbled, storming off to the bathroom.

Travis sighed. “... Love you too, man.”

“... ‘M sorry.” Nico’s voice was brittle and reedy. 

“It’s… fine,” Travis sighed. “Don’t worry about it. At least you didn’t foul our floor.” He grabbed Nico, scooped him into his arms as gently as possible, and stood up. “Let’s just get you to the infirmary. At least there they’ll have proper barf bags.” 

Nico leaned his head against Travis’s shoulder. “... ‘M sorry.”

Travis felt Nico trembling against him. Stepping into the dim torchlight of the cabin main, he saw Nico’s face clearly for the first time. His normally olive complexion had become pale and washed out. Tears, snot, vomit and drool gleamed over his cheeks and mouth, making his face look like glass. But it was his expression that made Travis’s heart break. He looked shattered, exhausted. Travis wanted to sit down and cuddle him better. 

Travis took a breath. Nico was a cabinmate, not his little brother. Nico was his charge. He had to do whatever he could. And now that meant getting him safely to the infirmary. He quickened his step and moved quickly to the Big House, slipping into the infirmary and lying Nico down into the first cot by the door. 

Nico groaned. “... Don’t leave me… please, I… I’m so scared… it won’t stop ringing...”

Travis sat down by Nico’s cot. “It’s all right, man. You’re gonna be fine. You just had a nightmare or something. The Apollo kids are gonna get you all better. So don’t freak out. You’re fine.”

Nico held out his hand. 

Travis gave it a pat. “You’re all right, man.”

  
  
  


It was a moment before Will stumbled in. “Hey,” Travis greeted. 

“Mm,” Will grunted. 

He couldn’t help but notice the conspicuous absence of their normal healer. Will was only their assistant healer, after all, who expected a twelve-year-old to make miracles? “Summer…?” he inquired.

“Dead asleep,” Will grunted. “Michael sent me.”

“Well, you think you can fix him?” Travis gestured to Nico. 

Will knelt down next to the cot. He put his hand on Nico’s head. “Can you hear me?”

Nico groaned. 

“Good.” Will’s voice was gentle. “Can you tell me your name?”

Nico sniffled. He opened his eyes halfway. “... Nico,” he whispered. “It’s Nico di Angelo.”

“Good job, Nico. You’re doing very well.” He turned to Travis. “What were his symptoms?”

“He woke up screaming, fell out of bed, was rolling around and convulsing on the floor. He threw up a couple of times too,” Travis recounted.

Will knit his brows. “Did it look like a seizure? Was he able to speak while convulsing?”

“He was crying out for his sister off and on. Not fully coherent. He came out of it pretty quick when I started talking to him.”

Will closed his eyes, trying to think and focus. “... Uh. Doesn’t sound exactly like a seizure to me. How was he convulsing? Describe it to me.”

“Writhing. Rolling back and forth. He wasn’t twitching or jerking or anything,” Travis reassured.

“Okay. That’s not a seizure.” Will turned back to Nico. “What hurts?”

Nico clutched at his head some more. “... My ears are ringing so loud,” he whispered. “My head hurts so bad. I’m so… I’m so dizzy. Oh, gods, she’s so… she’s so… she’s  _ dead…” _

Will blinked, confused. “Who’s dead?”

Nico hiccuped. A few more tears trickled down his cheeks. “... My… my sister, I… the girl I came to camp with… she’s… I know she’s dead… I felt it in my head… in my bones… it hurts so bad…”

Will pulled some Kleenex out of a box and passed them to him. “Here. Wipe your face. You’ll feel better when you’re not so messy. It’s just a nightmare, okay? It isn’t real. She’ll come back. I know it.”

Nico sniffled. He held the Kleenex to his face. “I… I told Percy to protect her… I made him promise to protect her…”

“He’ll protect her,” Will reassured. “He’s a Big Three kid. They’re strong. I’m sure Percy will be able to keep her safe.”

Nico made hesitant eye contact with Will over the top of his wad of tissues. “... You’re right. I… she’s okay. She has to be. There’s no way Percy could ever… yeah. There’s no way Percy could ever fail her. He’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“That’s a good way to think of it,” Will nodded appreciatively. “Have faith in Percy.”

Nico nodded. He closed his eyes for a long moment. Will wondered if he was praying. Finally, he opened his eyes, focusing on Will. “... I’ll try.”

Will nodded, giving an appreciative, albeit sleepy, grin. “That’s good. You should always have faith.”

Nico nodded. He looked intently at Will’s face. “... You have really pretty eyes.”

Will blinked. “I do?”

“... Yeah,” Nico murmured. “They’re sparkly and blue.”

Will’s ears turned red. “... Thanks.”

Travis yawned. “‘M gonna go now. I don’t need to sit here and watch you two flirt. Nico, are you okay now?”

Nico picked at a loose thread in the white sheets. “... Yeah. I’m okay, I think. Or… at least he’s here.” Nico pointed to Will. “Are you… gonna stay?”

“Yeah,” Will affirmed. “At least until you fall asleep again.”

Nico smiled. “... Thanks. Yeah, Travis, you can go.”

Travis nodded sleepily. He stood back up and stumbled out the door. “Thanks, man. Sleep well, little guy.”

Nico nodded. “I will.” He studied Will’s face a little more. “... What’s your name?”

“Mine?” 

“No, mine,” Nico snarked. “Of course yours, dummy, you’re the only other person in this room.”

“Oh, I’m… I’m sorry. I’m Will Solace. I’m the assistant healer here at camp.”

“Who’s the real healer?” 

“My older half-sister Summer. I’m still in training. I hope in a couple of years I can take the torch. I’ve always wanted to be a doctor.” Will’s lips curled into a gentle smile.

Nico nodded. He studied Will’s face some more, his kind expression. “... I think you’re gonna make a great doctor someday.”

Will blushed. “... Thanks.” He started. “Speaking of healing people, are you feeling better?”

“... My head hurts less,” Nico murmured. “And the ringing has subsided slightly. My ears still are ringing, but it’s not as painful as it was.”

Will nodded. “I’ll speak nice and soft, then.” He stood up. “I’ll get you some nectar. That’ll help.”

Nico sighed wistfully. “... I’ve never had nectar before. Does it taste like apple juice?”

“More like chocolate,” Will responded. “No, I don’t know why.”

Nico nodded. “... That’s weird.”

Will came back with a cup of nectar. “It’s godly. I don’t know why gods are the way they are. Just be thankful it doesn’t taste like pee. Can you sit up?”

Nico gave a long blink. He sat up slowly. “... I… my limbs are really heavy.”

“That’s to be expected. Sadness and stress are caused by chemicals, you know. You can overload on it just as you would anything else. And when you do, it has physical effects,” Will replied. 

Nico looked at him, his eyes wide and sparkly in admiration. “You’re really smart.”

Will blushed again. “... Thanks. Now drink the nectar and stop flattering me.”

Nico nodded. He took the nectar from Will’s hands and took a tiny sip. The taste of chocolate cake filled his mouth. His eyelids fluttered shut in contentment as the first sip hit his belly, warmth spreading throughout his body. He thought of Bianca, of her arms wrapped around him, of her hands mussing up his hair. Something else drifted into his mind, a woman’s voice singing in a gentle tone.  _ I wonder which goddess that voice belongs to.  _

“... Reminds me of Bianca,” Nico whispered as soon as the bliss receded enough to allow him his voice back. The ringing in his ears had subsided into quiet, the pounding in his head had ceased. 

Will smiled. “It’s taste will remind you of whatever makes you feel the happiest. Mine was always chocolate chip cookies. My friend Cecil makes them real good.”

“Cecil from Hermes? That Cecil?”

“That Cecil,” Will confirmed. “We’ve been best friends for years.”

Nico sighed. “I wish I had a best friend. Bianca’s the only friend I have.”

“I could be your best friend,” Will smiled. 

“You already have one, though,” Nico murmured morosely. He felt his heart sink into the depths of his stomach, sick and sad. You couldn’t have two best friends. You had to have one. Otherwise they weren’t  _ best  _ friends, only  _ close  _ friends, and that wasn’t the same, right?

“I have two. I could find room in my heart for a third,” Will reasoned. “Love isn’t a limited resource.”

Nico gave Will a small smile. Friends? The boy with the beautiful blue eyes wanted to be  _ best friends _ with  _ him?  _ And that was  _ okay?  _ “... I’d like to be your friend.”

Will grinned. “Thanks! When we get out tomorrow morning, I’ll take you to where my other friends eat and introduce you. I’m sure you’ll like them a lot, they’re good people.”

Nico nodded. “... Cecil seems all right. He’s kind of angry, though. I like the Stolls. They’re playful.”

Will’s eyes clouded with something Nico couldn’t recognize. “... Cecil’s got his own issues. He’s a sweet guy under everything, though. I can assure you of that.”

Nico studied his fingernails. He had an urge to bite off a small hangnail by the corner of his left index finger, but he refrained. Bianca had told him it was a disgusting habit. “... I hope so.”

“I know so. Don’t worry about him.” Will smiled, apparently shaking off whatever had been plaguing him earlier. “Anyway, thanks for agreeing to be my friend.”

Nico smiled. “Thanks for helping me. I… I needed it.”

Will grinned. “Of course. No, nightmares can be terrible. I don’t mind reassuring you. It’s fine.”

Nico’s smile faded. He looked down.  _ What about that feeling? It felt so… so  _ real.  _ No, no, Percy couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He’s better than that. He’s  _ stronger _ than that.  _ Nico looked up at Will and forced a smile. “Thanks. I’ll pay it back someday, I promise.”

Will patted Nico’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t believe in payback. Now, you should get some sleep. You’re really tired. I can see it in your eyes.”

Nico curled up on his side, drawing the thin sheets around himself. They were coarse and smelled faintly of antiseptic. “... Your heart is pretty too,” Nico mumbled, once he’d settled. “Like your eyes. You’ve been blessed. Someone up there loves you deeply.”

Will turned his head. “... Thank you so much,” he whispered. He paused. When he spoke again, his tone was very different. “... I don’t know if there’s a god above who loves me in particular. Apollo likes his kids to be attractive. That’s all that is. I mean, have you seen my siblings?”

Nico nodded. He thought back to the Apollo kids he’d seen, mostly blond, mostly tan, all tall and good-looking. He didn’t quite know how to express what he’d thought of them in ways that Bianca would have approved of. “... Some of them, yeah.” 

“Yeah. You know what I’m talking about. Apollo doesn’t really care about us. He just doesn’t want any of his direct relations to be ugly.”

“... Oh,” Nico mumbled. “... I’m sorry.”

Will took a deep breath. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just going through some stuff. I shouldn’t be unloading on you. You need to sleep, not listen to me whine.”

“... But you want your father,” Nico murmured. “You’re hurting and you want your dad.”

Will sighed. “... I guess so. You don’t deserve to have to sort my issues, though. Just go to sleep.”

“... I’ll try,” Nico murmured. He studied Will’s face. “... Will you stay with me?”

Will smiled. “Of course.”

Nico couldn’t stop a grin from taking over his face as he watched the boy with the beautiful eyes snuggle into the cot next to his. Maybe living in this new place wouldn’t be so terrible after all. 

Even if Bianca wasn’t there with him for every minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My parents are threatening to send me to a psychiatrist, but yesterday was my 18th birthday, so under American law, they can't make me do shit unless I want to.
> 
> Or that's what's technically true, anyway.
> 
> Also, if you love hurt-comfort, sickfics and soft whump as much as I do, fucking read this. It'll be so worth your time. Hermes overworks himself, gets the flu and Athena and Apollo fix him up. https://archiveofourown.org/works/25289272/chapters/61314055
> 
> Anyway, I reread TTC a little while ago and that's where I got this idea. I do like the idea of Nico actually having been reasonably liked at CHB pre-death of Bianca, but the thought of seeing Percy any more often than he has to hurts him too much to see the people who did care for him (Stolls, Will, etc.).
> 
> Also, as for the comment about "phrasing Bianca would approve of," Bianca isn't necessarily a homophobe. She just doesn't want to see her little brother get hurt for something he couldn't control, so she did the only thing she could think of and encouraged him to hide it. That's all that was. To clarify, Bianca isn't homophobic, she's just old-fashioned, young and scared.


	110. Some Percabeth-Shackled Wrists and Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy thinks he keeps his weaknesses decently under wraps. Truth is, he doesn't. Especially not when his fears are being shoved directly in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for inadvertently triggered phobias, descriptions of suffocation and injuries, mild gore, liberal use of shackles, brief female nudity (in a medical setting, not a sexy one), Percy being afraid of himself. Some whump. Also, Annabeth tells Percy something like "if you want to be a man, do this."

Percy couldn’t breathe. 

Clarisse’s spear was inches from his neck. Percy could feel the electricity burning the fine hairs across the underside of his chin, singing the skin underneath, a persistent, searing pain. Riptide had been scattered somewhere on the other side of the arena and was  _ really  _ taking her sweet time to reappear in his pocket. But that was the least of his worries. Clarisse’s arm was pressed hard into his neck. He could feel her bones crushing his trachea, cartilage giving way under the assault. His lungs burned for oxygen, but under Clarisse’s assault, he couldn’t draw breath. Dark spots danced in front of his vision, all he could see were Clarisse’s eyes, nearly red beneath her helmet. Every vein in his body throbbed.

_ You’re drowning. Drowning in the earth. Drowning in the mud. Drowning under the fury of the nymphs. You can’t control this. You can’t push it away from you. You can’t save yourself. No one will save you.  _

_ It’s just a stupid phobia. Get a hold of yourself. You’re in the arena. You’re not dying. _

_ You’re going to die. _

Percy felt water somewhere near him. He focused as much as he could through the screaming panic in his head. He felt the molecules of the water flowing rapidly somewhere nearby.  _ Help,  _ he thought.  _ Help me! I’m going to die! I’m fucking dying!  _

The next thing he realized, everyone was screaming, and Clarisse was writhing under Percy’s body, his knee planted firmly in her chest. Blood leaked from her lips. Her eyes were rolled all the way back in her head, small pinpricks of red gleamed in the sclera. Percy looked up. Hundreds of eyes stared at him in horror. His heart jackknifed in his chest. “... What… what happened?”

“You’re coming with me.” Will Solace grabbed him under the arms, pulling him off Clarisse. “Infirmary.  _ Now.” _

“... What happened? Is Clarisse… what did I do?” He looked around at the campers in the arena. He looked at Annabeth. She stared at her lap, refusing to meet his eyes. He could have sworn he saw a tear run down her cheek. “Guys, what did I do? Is she dead?”

“Don’t ask questions now. I’ll explain when we get there,” Will grumbled. He dragged Percy out of the arena. “And get up. I can’t support all of your weight the whole way there.”

Percy stumbled to his feet. Will didn’t let go of him. They almost ran to the infirmary, Percy tripping and stumbling on his shaky legs. His stomach sunk. He thought back to all the times he’d watched Will in counselor’s meeting, keeping the peace, smiling at everyone. He’d always seemed so chill, happy,  _ kind. _

Percy had never seen him this angry.

Will shoved him into a private infirmary room. “Get on the bed. Take off your armor and make yourself comfortable. You may be here a while.”

Percy stripped off his armor. He didn’t know why he was doing it. It wasn’t in his nature to blindly follow instructions. But something in his core told him:  _ do as you’re told.  _

He put his armor in a neat little pile on the floor and sat down on the bed.

Will approached the bed. He pulled something from the night table. Percy felt something cold loop around his back, latching onto his wrists. He tried to raise his hands, but found himself unable. “Did you just…”

“It’s for everyone’s safety,” Will explained. “It’s not for forever. I just want to make sure you’re not gonna hurt yourself or anybody else.”

“So you’re tying me up?”

“Yup.” Will grabbed Percy’s legs and locked them in their own set of shackles. “Is there anything you need before I go?”

Tears pricked in the corners of Percy’s eyes, tears of shame, tears of helplessness. “You’re just gonna leave me here?” 

“I’m sending in Annabeth.” Will turned around, giving a snort. “Maybe she can find out what the hell suddenly went wrong in your head.”

Will took a deep breath, closing the door behind him. He closed his eyes, trying to forget the expression on Percy’s face, the betrayal, the guilt. He looked over to where Chiron was already tending to Clarisse.  _ Okay. Don’t think about that. Don’t think about Percy. Clarisse needs you now.  _

He legged it to Clarisse’s bedside. Chiron had stripped her. She was nude from the waist up. Will could see that her entire chest was swollen. The flesh of her cleavage was the worst. It made her look like she’d lost an entire cup size in an instant. “... What broke?” Will managed.

“Cracked sternum,” Chiron murmured. “There’s a slight damage to the wall of her aorta, but not enough to break it. Thankfully. She has…  _ lots  _ of broken blood vessels, though. And her ribs are injured too. Bruised and cracked, but not broken.”

“... Superhuman,” Clarisse wheezed. “... His strength… superhuman.”

“Did you find out what happened?” Chiron said. “Percy’s not the type to attack with such savagery. Something  _ must  _ be wrong with him.”

Will’s tongue felt like wet sand in his mouth. “... I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was supposed to figure that out.”

Chiron sighed. “Go get Annabeth. She should be able to talk to him.”

Will was quiet. “... Are you sure you don’t want me to help you fix her?”

Chiron sighed. “My boy, I have thousands of years of medical experience on you. I can help her. Don’t worry about it. What I need is someone to figure out why Percy went off. I don’t care who it is. It could be you or Annabeth or Meg or Grover or anyone. I just need to know why he did this so we can prevent him from ever doing it again.”

Will nodded. He closed his eyes. 

Chiron went on. “Because this isn’t Percy. The little boy Annabeth nursed back to health so many years ago wouldn’t do that. The little boy I knew from Yancy wouldn’t do that. There’s something really,  _ really  _ wrong.”

_ What’s a Yancy?  _ Will thought. “... I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” Chiron smiled. 

“... You’re welcome,” Will managed. 

He was turning to leave when Percy’s voice cut through the relative quiet of the infirmary. “Will!”

He turned and reentered the private room. Percy’s knees were curled to his chest. Tears hung in the corners of his eyes. “... Don’t get Annabeth.”

Will raised his eyebrows. “Why not?”

Percy sniffled. “... Because… because… I don’t want her to see me like this. She’ll be… she’ll be scared, man. She’ll… she’ll hate me.” His voice broke. “I won’t… Will, I… I  _ need  _ her, man! I… if she sees me like this, she’ll… she’ll want to leave me, and if she leaves me, I’ll… I’ll die! Come on, man, you’re in a relationship yourself, you understand, don’t you?”

Will studied him. He looked so  _ pathetic,  _ chained to his bed with tears shining in his eyes. “... She deserves to know, though, doesn’t she? I don’t think it’s good for you to leave her in the dark.”

Percy lay his head into his knees. Will could sense he was crying. “... She’ll leave me…  _ please,  _ man, I know I deserve it, but it… it hurts… it  _ hurts… _ ”

Will perched on the bed next to him, his back turned. “... I won’t let her know right now if you don’t want me to. But… I really do think that the more secrets you try and keep from each other, the weaker your relationship will become.”

A quiet sob choked its way from Percy’s throat. “... Will, you… I need you to…”

“What?”

Percy hiccuped. “I need you to kill me.”

“... What?” 

“I said, I need you to kill me. And I need you to do it quick before I lose my nerve.” 

Will turned. Tears traced over Percy’s cheeks, the little salt drops looking so out of place on a face that was normally so strong. “Percy, you don’t… you know what? C’mere, bud. Get a hug. You need it.”

Percy looked at Will as if he’d just sprouted another head. “... You think I can hug you with my arms in shackles?”

“Can I still hug you?”

“Whatever,” Percy mumbled miserably. “Do what you want to me. I’m beyond caring.”

Will leaned in. He wrapped his arms around the miserable Percy, cradling his head into his shoulder. “... ‘S okay,” Will murmured. “My shoulder’s a good place to cry. Let it all out.”

Percy shuddered, melting hard against Will, despite all intuitions that told him to run. He heaved a breath. “... Hurts,” he managed. “... Hurts… hurts so much…”

“I know, man. Look, Annabeth loves you. I don’t think she’d leave you even now,” Will reassured. “I mean, why did you… did you think Clarisse was gonna kill you? Is that why you freaked out?”

Percy was silent for a long time. Will still felt tears running into his shoulder. Finally, Percy gave an imperceptible nod. 

“That’s totally normal, Percy. That’s Clarisse’s fault, not yours. When did you… did you black out, or… what happened?”

“... Clarisse had her spear to my throat and was… and was… crushing my throat. Then I blacked out. When I woke up, she was… she was underneath me... writhing in agony,” Percy managed, thick sobs pouring from his mouth. “That’s all I remember, I swear!”

Will nodded. “Okay. I think what happened was… you got so panicked from Clarisse’s assault that you blacked out. Then hysterical strength kicked in and…” Will shrugged. “Before you knew it, you’d cracked her sternum by mistake and… somehow broke half the bloo--” Will’s blood ran cold. “... Oh,  _ shit.  _ Dude.”

A helpless cry broke from Percy’s throat. “... I’m so, so sorry… I didn’t mean to…”

“I know you didn’t mean to. It’s not your  _ fault,  _ I just… I mean, bloodbending is scary shit. If you can just… tear us all to shreds in an instant, then what’s stopping you from just maiming  _ every  _ competitor within an inch of their lives  _ every  _ time we fight about  _ anything? _ ”

“... I love you guys,” Percy whimpered weakly. “I don’t… I don’t want to hurt any of you. I didn’t even… really want to hurt Clarisse, I was just…”

“You were scared,” Will reassured. “That’s human. The unfortunate thing about you is that there’s a part of you that’s decidedly  _ not,  _ and that’s the part that could bring down cities.”

Percy nodded. He didn’t say anything for a long time. When he finally spoke, it was in a tone that sounded so shattered that Will wanted to cry. “... I never wanted to be a demigod.” 

Will gently stroked through the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. “None of us did, Percy.”

Percy raised his head off of Will’s shoulder. His sea green irises stood out brilliantly against the bloodshot whites of his eyes. “... Will, I’m so  _ tired,  _ I just want… I’m tired and I…”

“You?”

“... I want my mother,” Percy sniffled. “I want to… I want to go back to Montauk with her and… and… I don’t know.”

“And there we have it,” Will announced. “We’ve gone directly into the age-regression part of being stressed. But seriously, do you want to call her?”

Percy shook his head. “... I don’t want her to see me like this.”

Will nodded. “You don’t like worrying her, do you?”

Percy shook his head again. He pulled away from Will, wiping his eyes. “... I feel bad enough for crying in front of you.”

Will handed him some tissues. “Don’t worry about it. I see people cry all the time.”

Percy didn’t really respond to that. He tried to cross his legs, but the shackles prevented him, so he settled for sitting with his feet together and knees apart. He stared down at the white sheets underneath him. 

Will could sense he was deep in turbulent thoughts. “... Is there anyone you’d be more comfortable speaking to about this? I think… I don’t think you’re telling me the whole story here. Just a sense I’m getting.”

Percy bit his lip. “... Is Annabeth scared of me?”

“I don’t think so,” Will reassured. “She loves you, understand?”

Percy heaved a breath. “... Go get her. Please. I don’t care what she does to me. I’m done being scared about her. If she’s done, I want to know now. While I’m… not able to hurt anyone.”

Will nodded. He stood up. “I’ll be back in a minute or two.”

  
  
  


Annabeth was still sitting exactly where she’d been before.

She was crosslegged on an arena bench, staring at her hands. She didn’t seem to notice Will until he’d sat down next to her. “... How is he?” she whispered.

“He’s… okay,” Will murmured. “From what I could glean, he freaked out because he thought Clarisse was gonna kill him and went into hysterical-strength mode.”

“... He was scared,” Annabeth squeaked. “I bet he… he did the first thing he thought of.”

Will nodded. “You know, he’s also scared of you.”

Annabeth looked at Will. “Why? Why would he be scared of me?”

“Because he loves you. And he thinks… he thinks now that he’s messed up Clarisse so badly, you’re gonna stop loving him. And he needs you on a level that I don’t really know how to express.”

Annabeth’s lip quivered. “... And he’s in the infirmary?”

“Yeah. He is.” Will stood back up. “And he wants to talk to you.”

“I knew he would,” she whispered. 

The walk to the infirmary was silent until they were right in front of the private room. “Annabeth,” Will called softly.

Annabeth turned. Her eyes were red. “What?” 

“Don’t cry in front of him. I know it’s hard, but you need to be strong for him. If you start crying, it’ll only hurt him more.”

Annabeth took a deep breath. “... Okay,” she whispered.

  
  


When Annabeth first saw him, her heart shattered into tiny little shards.

His legs were chained to the bedposts. Another chain looped around his back, connecting his wrists. He looked terribly exposed like this, unable to defend any part of himself with any of his limbs. His hands shook uselessly at his sides. His head was hung when she walked in. “... What did they  _ do  _ to you?” she blurted. 

Percy looked up. His eyes were glassy. “... Annabeth,” he croaked. 

Annabeth ran to his side. She cupped her hand against his cheek, studying his face. “Oh, gods, Seaweed Brain, what happened? What did they do? What did you do?”

“I… I hurt Clarisse,” Percy mumbled. “You saw me hurt Clarisse.” 

“I know. Why? You know Clarisse wouldn’t kill you. She’d want you alive so she can gloat about how much better she is than you to your face. You  _ know  _ that, Percy! Why did you try to  _ kill _ her?” 

Percy’s lip trembled. His eyes glassed further, warm tears welling inside. “... Are you scared of me?” 

“No, Percy,” Annabeth murmured. “I’m not scared of you. I love you. I know you’d never hurt me. I’m scared of what you’d do to  _ others.  _ Now, why did you do what you did?”

Percy closed his eyes. Tears streamed down his face, too pale now. Annabeth remembered how  _ healthy  _ he had looked after training with Lupa, tanned and muscular. His skin had paled out after Tartarus, she’d known that much, but she didn’t remember him ever looking this  _ sickly.  _ “... I don’t… I don’t want to… I’m so sorry…”

Annabeth brushed the tears off of his cheeks. “You can tell me anything, okay? I’ve always been your best friend. You told me about your… about your Achilles spot, remember? I’m the thing that keeps you mortal. That makes you human. Percy, if you’re in pain, if you’re hiding something, I need to know.”

Percy looked away, trying to hide, concealing his wounds even from the one who longed so terribly to heal them. “... If I tell you, you can’t tell  _ anyone.  _ Not Will, not Chiron, not any of the other Seven, not my mother, not anyone.”

“... I promise. I won’t tell anyone unless you give me your specific permission.” She kissed Percy’s jaw. She wanted to take his hand, but the shackles prevented her.

Percy was quiet for a long time. Finally, he murmured “... I may have… developed a… I’m scared of… I’m scared of… I’m  _ really  _ scared of being suffocated.”

Annabeth was quiet for a long time. She stroked Percy’s knuckles from where they lay at his side. “... Why were you so ashamed to tell me that?”

“... I’m… oh, gods. There’s no way to say this that doesn’t make me look like a douchebag.” Percy’s voice trembled.

Annabeth smirked. “That masculine pride dies hard, doesn’t it?”

“... Yeah. It does. I mean… yeah. I’m the… I’m the boyfriend. I’m the  _ hero,”  _ Percy sighed _.  _ “I’m supposed to be the one who bravely runs into danger without a second thought for his own safety. But… I…”

“But it’s not like that, because this is real life, and real life doesn’t conform perfectly to expectations or stereotypes?”

Percy nodded. 

“Yeah. Look, Seaweed Brain, I don’t give two shits if you have some level of phobia or another,” Annabeth reassured. “What I’m upset about is that you kept it canned until it exploded. Look, phobias can be worked on. Look at how much less afraid I am of spiders than I was before. But you can’t work on shit if you refuse to acknowledge that it’s a thing.”

“I wasn’t…  _ refusing,  _ Annabeth, I just… I just don’t want to think about it.”

Annabeth pinched his arm. “You’re cute when you’re deflecting. But look. You wanna be a man?”

“... I do,” Percy responded.

“Then fucking work on yourself, babe.” She pulled him into a deep kiss. She licked at his lips and was pleased when he responded by shoving his tongue into her mouth. His lips were cracked and chapped, she could feel all the dryness and self-neglect in the curve. She could taste the remnants of tears in his mouth, slightly saltier than his normal kisses. 

She lingered until she couldn’t breathe anymore.

Percy was panting as she pulled away. She took him by the shoulders and looked him square in the eyes. “You don’t need to be perfect to be a good man, Percy. You need to be willing to work on yourself and improve. Anyway, what does that have to do with you breaking half of Clarisse’s bones?”

“... She was… cutting off all of… my air,” Percy panted. “I couldn’t breathe.”

“... And you got scared,” Annabeth murmured. “Because of something no one knew about you. And it scared you so badly you did something you haven’t done since Tartarus.”

Percy shuddered at the mention of the Pit. “... I’m sorry.”

“And I’m sorry for mentioning the bad place, but it had to be said.”

“... Annabeth, look, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to, I blacked out, I really couldn’t control it, I was just… I was just so…”

“Percy, you were scared. That’s okay. I’m just…” She sighed. “Percy, I know you don’t see this, but you’re literally the most powerful demigod of our time. Possibly of all times. And if you can’t control that power, then that could have massive negative consequences for you and everybody around you.”

“... So… you’re scared of me, and everyone else should be too?” Percy’s heart felt like it was being swallowed in a yawning void. 

She pecked his cheek. “I am not scared of you. I will never be scared of you. I don’t think  _ anyone _ should be scared of you. What I am scared of, however, is that people will  _ become _ scared of you if you don’t learn how to control yourself. And Percy, I don’t want that for you. I don’t want that for  _ us.  _ I  _ love  _ you, Percy. I don’t want you to have to suffer that.”

A tight knot Percy didn’t know he’d been holding in his insides suddenly unraveled. “... Thanks,” he whispered. “... I love you too.”

“Chiron can help you,” Annabeth dismissed, almost as if she was trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. “He’s been training demigods for years. He’s probably trained hundreds of Poseidon kids. He’ll know what to do. You just have to be honest with him is all. Meaning that you need to tell him about not only your phobia, but also how you respond to it.”

Percy was quiet. He stared the letters scrawled on Annabeth’s shirt, the way they stretched over the curve of her… oh, gods. He was  _ staring  _ staring. He blushed and looked down at the bedsheet. “... I don’t know… how to express it to Chiron. It’s kind of…”

“It hurts. I know. But sometimes you need to do things that hurt. And yes, I said need. This is a need, Percy. You need to better yourself. If not for yourself, for me. You can do it for me, right?”

“... I made it through hell for you,” Percy murmured. “I can… oh, gods…” His voice broke, and something changed in his face. He looked at her, a defiant scowl in his eyes. “Wise Girl, it… it hurts! It hurts, okay? It’s fucking agonizing! I’m supposed to be a hero! I’m supposed to be all tough and smart and… and cool… but…”

“... But?”

“But I’m not! I’m not fucking tough! I’m not smart! I’m not cool! I’m not strong! I’m just a little screwball kid from a shitty part of Manhattan! I’ve been kicked out of every school I’ve ever been in! They were right to beat the shit out of me when I was little, ‘Beth, I… I…” His voice broke, and his mind seemed to shatter off into a million little pieces. His eyes became unfocused again. 

“... You never call me Beth,” Annabeth murmured, unable to unpack any more of Percy’s statement than that. “It’s always either Annabeth or Wise Girl.”

Percy whimpered. “... Sorry,” he managed.

Annabeth stared at the fabric of Percy’s sweats. “... Luke called me Beth all the time.”

“... Sorry,” he mumbled. “I… I didn’t mean to.”

“Not your fault. You couldn’t have known.” She patted his hand, feeling the bones of his knuckles beneath his soft skin. “You must be in a fuckin’ state right now if you’re inventing new nicknames for me.”

“... The shackles hurt,” he mumbled. “My legs are cramping. I can only hold them in, like, two positions, and both of them hurt. Pulling them to my chest makes my stomach hurt. Holding them like butterfly wings makes my thighs hurt. My body feels like it’s full of lead. I want to sleep, but I can’t, because I can’t sleep on my back all that well, not after… you know.”

“I know,” Annabeth murmured. “It’s too vulnerable a position, holding your belly and legs and genitals so anyone could hurt them.”

Percy gave a small nod. “It is.”

Annabeth kissed his jaw. “I’ll go see if I can’t get your shackles off, okay?”

Percy closed his eyes, savoring the warm print her lips left on his skin. “... Thanks, Wise Girl. I owe you one.”

“No problem.”

  
  
  


“What the fuck did you do to him?”

Will whirled around at Annabeth’s screech. “Oh, gods! Sorry, sorry, you scared me.”

“Good,” Annabeth seethed. “Fucking good. Why the fuck did you…?” Her voice broke. Her anger was a desert beset by a sudden flood. Tears poured down her cheeks. “Oh, gods, why did you tie him up?”

Will moved closer, putting a hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture. “I had to, Annabeth. I thought… I didn’t know what his mindset was. I didn’t know if he was… if he would hurt himself or someone else. I was scared and I’m sorry.”

“Take off the shackles,” Annabeth sniffled. “He doesn’t deserve them. He’s not a monster. He’s not an animal. He’s not a murderer. He’s a human being, and a damn good one at that. Get him out of those binds.” She took a deep breath. “ _ Now!” _

Will took a deep breath. “Of course. Will do.” He scampered into Percy’s room. Percy was sitting with his legs out in front of him, his legs crossed one over another. “... Percy? You feeling better?”

Percy sighed. “... Maybe. Annabeth… she thinks that Chiron could help me learn to control the bloodbending stuff a little better. I promise I didn’t mean to… to…” Percy bit his lip, chewing off a little bit of chapped skin. 

“I know. You’ve said. Did you… did Annabeth help you any?”

Percy sighed. “... A bit. I… I hope Chiron can help. I don’t…” His voice broke. “I don’t know who else could help me.”

“I’m sure he can,” Will murmured soothingly. He slipped a key from his belt and unlocked the shackles, freeing Percy. He stood back and watched, scanning Percy, trying to predict his next move.

Percy’s next move was to curl up in the fetal position and bury his face in the pillow. 

Will patted his shoulder. “Feel better soon, my guy.”

“Tell Clarisse that. Not me. Clarisse is the one who’s in pain,” Percy mumbled.

Will nodded. “Will do.” He turned back to the door. Annabeth was leaning against the doorframe. “Got him out of his shackles. You okay now?”

Annabeth nodded. She crossed the room and sat down on the edge of Percy’s bed, stroking his hair. “May I see your wrists and ankles? Just to make sure those shackles didn’t hurt you too much?”

Percy turned to face her. He extended his wrists to her. She wrapped tender hands around his wrists, gently stroking over his arms, trying to find any sign of marks on the skin. Once she was satisfied he wasn’t injured, she moved down his body, pushing up his sweats to study his ankles. 

“... This is like our first meeting all over again,” Percy murmured. “You’re taking care of me.”

Annabeth snorted. “This is the entirety of our relationship, you buffoon. I’ve been taking care of you for years.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Percy responded. “Since the day I arrived at camp, you’ve been caring for me. And I love you for that.”

Annabeth turned away. “... You’re sweet.”

Percy blushed. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Annabeth kissed his cheek. 

There was a pause. Percy took a deep breath. “... I need to apologize to Clarisse. I… look, I know we don’t get along, not really, but this is… beyond the pale. Sticking someone’s head in the shitter isn’t the same as bending their blood and causing mass internal bleeding. That’s… that’s not fucking normal, dude.”

“You’re right,” Annabeth replied. “I wasn’t gonna bring it up with you until you were better, but…”

“... but I maimed the shit out of Clarisse and am lucky that Chiron didn’t drag my ass over the border and ditch me?”

Annabeth pursed her lips. “... Well… yes. You are very lucky indeed.”

Percy nodded. He rolled to a sitting position, looking at the shackles that lay coiled on the nightstand. “Do you think they’ll want me in chains?”

Annabeth huffed. “... No. I don’t think so. At least not as long as I’m with you.”

Percy fixed her with a grateful smile. “... Thanks.”

Annabeth nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  
  


Percy had never felt more nervous in his life. 

His stomach was flopping back and forth as he approached Clarisse. She was lying on her back in a cot in the main infirmary, a blanket pulled up around her shoulders. He turned to Annabeth. “... Is she… awake?”

“Maybe,” Annabeth shrugged. She tiptoed a little closer to the bed. “... Clarisse? You up?”

Clarisse groaned.

Percy’s stomach roiled. “... Hey, Clarisse, I… I’m so sorry. I never meant to… I never meant to maim you as badly as I did. I just… I freaked out because you were cutting off my air. And that wasn’t right. I’m sorry.”

Clarisse peeked open one eye. “... It was... a  _ fight…  _ imbecile. You win… by whatever means... you’ve got.” Heavy wheezing cut between her words. 

“I think anyone would say that bloodbending is an unfair advantage,” Percy murmured. 

“... So is… my spear. We all have… advantages.” Sweat beaded across Clarisse’s forehead. Her eyes fell closed. “... But I… scared… you?”

Percy’s eyes stung. “... Yeah. You did. When you had me pinned. And were strangling me.”

“... That’s also… unfair. I don’t… fight… fair. If you…” Clarisse swallowed. “... If… you fought… fair, you never… would… have… beat me.”

Percy stared at her hand. A tube snaked into the flesh, held in place by a small white bandage. “... I know. I’m not a good sword fighter. All my prowess is in my powers. That’s why you kicked my ass so easily at first.”

A small smile graced Clarisse’s lips. “... That’s the… smartest… thing I’ve… ever… heard… you say.”

“Thanks. I’m just glad…” Percy cleared his throat. “I’m glad you’re not angry.”

“... Oh, I’m… gonna… kill you. As soon… as I’m… out of… this bed. I’ll kick… your ass.”

Percy smiled. “Looking forward to it.”

“You should rest now,” Annabeth cut in. “You’re exhausted, Clarisse. You can’t even keep your eyes open.”

“... Hurts,” Clarisse managed. “... Hurts… a lot.”

Annabeth brushed a bit of hair off of her sweatsoaked cheek. “I know. It’ll get better. You want me to get Will?”

Clarisse managed a nod.

“Okay,” Annabeth murmured. She stood up and crossed the infirmary to where Will was sitting at his desk, scribbling in a notebook. “Will? Is there… anything you can give Clarisse? Just to help with the pain?”   


Will looked up. “She won’t take morphine. I’ve given her lighter painkillers. I’ve given her a lot of nectar. I can’t really give her any more nectar for a while. It’s just not safe.” He rose out of his chair, crossing over to where Clarisse lay. He touched her arm gently to alert her of his presence. “Clarisse?”

Clarisse grunted a response.

“Are you in pain?”

“... Agony,” Clarisse wheezed. 

“Would you like some morphine? It would help make the pain go away. I know you don’t like knockout-type drugs, but it would only be for a little while, and it would be so much more tolerable.”

Percy watched in shock as a lone tear slipped from under Clarisse’s closed eyelid, snaking down her cheek. She nodded. 

“Okay,” Will whispered. “I’ll hook it up to your IV.” He crossed the room to the storage closet and began rummaging around.

“... I’m sorry,” Percy mumbled again. He started to wish he’d just let Clarisse kill him. It would be less painful than watching tears drip down Clarisse’s cheeks. “I really am. I’m so sorry.”

Clarisse held up one shaking hand. She flipped him an obscene gesture.

“She’ll be okay,” Annabeth predicted. “She’s well enough to flip the bird. She’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Percy murmured. “I mean… I know she and I kind of hate each other, but I don’t want her  _ dead,  _ you know? Especially not by my hand.”

“No, I get it. You don’t want to kill her. There’s hatred, and then there’s  _ hatred,  _ you know?”

Percy nodded. “... Yeah. I know. Trust me, I know.”

  
  
  
  


It was a few more minutes before Chiron trotted back into the infirmary. “Will,” he greeted. “How is she?”

“Clarisse? She’s… better. We put a lot of nectar and morphine into her and I think she’s sleeping now. It’ll be a little while before she’s  _ okay,  _ but she’s a little better now.”

“Morphine,” Chiron mused. “She must be in agony if she was willing to take morphine.”

“I think she is. Or was, anyway. She’s a little beyond pain right now.”

Chiron’s eyes crinkled kindly. “Good.” His eyes fell on Percy. “Young man.”

Percy stiffened. He turned around. “... Yeah?”

“I think we should talk. If you’re able, come to my office. Now.  _ Alone.” _

Percy nodded dizzily. He stood up, trailing Chiron out of the infirmary. He remembered with a sudden clarity that the last time they had talked alone was when he’d been kicked out of Yancy. The thought didn’t do much for his nerves. 

He wondered if Camp Jupiter would accept someone Camp Half-Blood had kicked out. Sure, he’d been a praetor for a day, but that really didn’t mean anything. His eyes stung. Camp Half-Blood had been the only place that hadn’t ever tried to have him kicked. If they didn’t want him, he didn’t know what other options he had. 

He felt a sudden, odd longing for the fields of Asphodel.

“Sit down, son,” Chiron said in his familiar paternal tone, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk.

Percy sat. “... I’m sorry,” he blurted. 

“I know,” Chiron replied, settling down in his wheelchair. “Look, son, I’m not mad. I’m just curious. Why did you do it?”

“... I’m sorry, Chiron, I… I don’t know, I just…”

_ “Percy.”  _ Chiron’s tone was stern. “Tell me the truth.”

“... I was scared,” Percy whispered. “... I was scared. Chiron, when I was… away for those six months, I… I… I had some… experiences that…”

“That what?”

“... I’m scared of being suffocated, okay?” Tears pricked at the corner of Percy’s eyes. Shame coiled in his gut. “There, are you happy?”

“... And your fear triggered your powers,” Chiron murmured. “Was Clarisse trying to strangle you?”

Percy nodded. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“That makes a lot of sense,” Chiron whispered.

“... I need your fucking help, man,” Percy half-sobbed. “I need to… I need to make this work somehow. I can’t keep… I can’t keep reflexively controlling any water I feel nearby whenever I’m scared. The next person might not… might not be as lucky as Clarisse is. Chiron, I need… I need help. I  _ need  _ help.” 

There was a moment where Percy’s stifled sobs were the only sound in the room. Finally, Chiron spoke. “I know you need help, son. I know. Wipe your tears. This can all be helped. None of this is unfixable.”

Percy sniffled. He dried his eyes on a tissue Chiron provided. 

“That’s better. Look, Percy. You’re  _ going _ to make it. I’m not giving you a choice.” Chiron’s voice was firm but soothing. “We can start working on this as soon as you’re a bit calmer if you would like. I think it would be good for you to learn to harness this a bit more. Your powers do not like to be controlled, but that doesn’t mean they’re uncontrollable.” Chiron stood back up and trotted over to Percy, putting a hand under his chin, pulling his head up and looking him in the eye. “You are able to control this, Percy. I know you are.”

Percy sniffled. He leaned into Chiron’s touch, almost subconsciously. “... Thank you so much. I… I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Chiron reassured. “Clarisse will recover. She is badly bruised and battered, but she will live.”

“... And you’re not gonna… kick me out?” Percy looked at Chiron with such a helpless, broken expression that Chiron wanted to grab him up in a hug and never let go.

“... No, son. Clarisse doesn’t want that, I don’t want that, Poseidon doesn’t want that and you don’t want that. It’s not happening. Clarisse and I spoke on that already. You’re staying here. I will warn you, however, that whatever revenge she takes will be up to her. I have given her permission to do that much.”

“So, sleep with one eye open?”

Chiron nodded. “That would be wise, yes.”

A laugh bubbled up from Percy’s core. “Will do.”

Chiron smiled fondly at him. “Now go tell Annabeth about this talk. She’s probably worrying herself sick.”

“Correction, she’s  _ definitely  _ worrying herself sick,” Percy replied. “I’ll go put her mind at ease.”

Chiron chuckled. “You go do that. I have paperwork to do, and then I will check on Clarisse once more. Just because she’ll live doesn’t mean she won’t need frequent care.”

Percy looked down. “Of course. I’ve apologized, by the way.”

Chiron raised an eyebrow, trotting his hoof on the ground. “And how did she take that?”

“... Decently. She seemed to understand it, but she also said she was gonna kick my ass when she got out of the bed,” Percy reasoned. “So… supports your sleep-with-one-eye-open warning.”

“Remember, this is  _ Clarisse  _ we’re speaking of.”

“Of course,” Percy nodded. “No, I know how she works. I’ll stay alert.”

“Good.” Chiron clapped Percy on the back. “Now, as for that training, how about four today? I should be done with what I have to do by then.”

“Thanks,” Percy murmured, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “It… it means a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” Chiron nodded. “It is not a problem. Now go back to Annabeth.”

Percy nodded, stood up and left to do just that. He felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. If this worked out, he’d never have to fear himself again. And  _ that  _ was something worth fighting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been really, really into whump lately. Speaking of whump, if you like whump, you should read this. Just a fair warning, it is an Octavian-apologist fic, but it's also some of the best whump to ever come out of this fandom IMO, so please give it a fair chance. Also, go bully the author to finish it. But DO NOT bully the author for being an Octavian apologist. Yes, he was a jerk, but that doesn't mean that those who care about him and his character are automatically terrible themselves. https://archiveofourown.org/works/25367098/chapters/61507813
> 
> Also, expect more content with whump in it. Provided I can get my shit together and actually finish some of these fucking drabbles. The thing is, I'm not even not-writing or anything. I just can't finish anything to save my life.


	111. Some Sally/Paul- “Does it have something to do with the fact that my car isn’t in its normal spot?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place shortly after Percy gets home from taking Meg and Apollo to camp. The scene where he totals the Prius. This is Paul's reaction to finding out that his stepson destroyed his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for excess guilt, aftereffects of emotional abuse

“Percy? How’d it go?” Sally didn’t spare her returning son a glance as he entered the apartment.

Percy sniffled. He flopped down hard on the couch, kicking his shoes off. “... Dot so good.”

“Is Meg okay?”

“Yeah. But I… I crashed the car. And had to get the cops to drag be hobe.”

Sally sighed. “How bad’s the car?”

“... I had to get it towed,” Percy sniffled. His throat felt like he’d been gargling with Phlegethon water for thirty years. 

“Do we owe the tow company anything?”

“... We dod’t.”

Sally sighed again. “Well, that’s good at least.” She moved towards where Percy was curled up on the couch. Her eyes widened. “... Oh, honey.” She knelt, carding fingers through Percy’s hair. “Were you crying?”

Percy shook his head. “... There were sobe… plague spirits. That’s why I crashed. I couldn’t avoid theb. We killed theb, but they got be.”

“Okay. It’s okay,” Sally whispered. “We can… okay.”

“I’ll tell Paul,” Percy mumbled. “I’ll tell hib his wife’s shitbag sod ruined his most expedsive possessiod.”

“Don’t call yourself that. You couldn’t help it,” Sally soothed. “You were sick and scared. There was nothing you could do.”

Percy sniffled. His eyes stung. His poor nose became even stuffier than it normally was. “.... Thadks.”

Suddenly--as if by fate--Paul entered. “Hey guys. How… Percy? You good?”

Sally stood up. “Percy has something important to talk to you about.”

Paul raised an eyebrow. “Does it have something to do with the fact that my car isn’t in its normal spot? And the fact that I just got a call from a tow company saying that someone else just crashed a car registered in my name?” Paul moved to sit next to Percy on the couch. 

Percy nodded slightly. “... I’b sorry, I… I did’t bead to. I really ab. I… I’ll pay you back…”

“... Are you sick?” Paul asked suddenly.

“... Little bit.”

“What was so important that you had to drive while sick? You should have been resting, not driving,” Paul nagged. “That’s why you crashed the car, son.”

Percy sniffled. “Debigod busidess. Do big deal. We got… abbushed. Plague spirits. They forced the car off the road. Ad bade be really sick.”

“That’s not your fault, son, it’s theirs. How bad is the car?”

Tears stung at Percy’s eyes again. He curled into himself, pressing his face into the pillows. “... Totaled.”

“Like, so bad we’d have to get a new one?”

Percy gave a small nod.

Percy flinched at the feeling of a soft touch over his back. “I’m just happy you’re okay, Percy. I’m not mad about the car. It wasn’t your fault.”

A sob choked out of his throat. “... But… it… I’m…”

“You were assaulted and ran off the road. That’s not your fault. I’m not even gonna make you pay for it. That thing was like, a million years old anyway. If anything, it’s an excuse to get a nicer car,” Paul chuckled.

A sob broke from Percy’s pained throat. He was so tired, and his whole head just _ached,_ and he felt so _guilty,_ and it was such a lethal concoction that his reactions had reached a point where they were entirely beyond his control. “... I’b so-o-orry,” he quavered.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Paul soothed. “It’s all okay. It’s just an item. Things aren’t too important in the grand scheme of things. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He ruffled Percy’s hair. “Here, why don’t I help you get to bed? You need to rest.”

“... I’ll pay you back,” Percy rasped, searching for something, anything to say to right the situation. “I’b sorry.”

Paul absently stroked over Percy’s hair, his back. “I already told you not to worry about paying me back. It wasn’t your fault. You don’t need to repent if you never sinned.” He leaned in, giving Percy an awkward hug. “It’s okay.”

Percy gave a few more shuddery gasps. His shoulders shook. “... ‘urts…”

“I know. You’re sick. Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Paul tugged on his arm, very gently. “I’ll bring you some water. That should help.”

Percy sniffled, trying to keep his nose from running into the pillow. “O-okay.” He sat up, leaning heavily against the back of the couch. “I… I’b sorry.”

Paul patted his back, standing up. “Don’t apologize.”

Percy closed his eyes. The world spun around him. He tentatively picked his way to his feet, leaning heavily on the back of the couch. His knees felt like Jello.

Percy felt a cool hand on the back of his neck. “You okay, son?”

“... Dizzy,” he grunted. 

“All right. Keep your breathing nice and even. You need my help to walk?”

Percy took a deep breath. “... I’b all right.” He released the couch, swaying slightly. He took a few awkward steps, almost limping as he stumbled towards his room, bumping hard into the doorframe. “... Ow.”

Paul chuckled. “A little to the left, maybe?”

Percy grunted. He staggered three steps and faceplanted hard into his bed, his face buried in his pillow. 

“... I’ll get you some water,” Paul chuckled. 

Percy let out a groan.

Paul sighed. He grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and returned to Percy, who was still facedown in his pillows. “Here you go, son.”

Percy grunted. He didn’t stir. 

“Need me to help you roll over?”

Percy shifted slowly, rolling into the fetal position, curling his knees to his chest. 

“Good boy,” Paul soothed. “You’re doing really well.” He knelt down, unscrewing the cap off the water bottle and touching it to his lips, letting him feel the sating water. 

Percy licked at it, turning his head, drinking. He groaned softly, but it sounded more relieved than pained. He pulled away slightly once the bottle was empty. “... Thanks,” he whispered.

Paul ruffled his hair. “I’m gonna go see if we have any medicine for your congestion. Do you have any tissues?”

Percy slowly reached out, fumbling around on his nightstand. His fingers scrabbled against the wood, finding nothing. “... Mm.”

“I’ll get you some. You just rest, okay?”

“Mm.”

Paul chuckled. He pulled the blankets up around Percy’s shoulders. Percy gave a shaky breath. A tear trickled down his cheek.

Paul didn’t have to ask why he was crying. _You never deserved that pain, Perce. You’re a good kid. You never should have had to suffer that level of abuse at such a young age._ “... Hey, it’s all right. I’m not mad.”

“... I’ll pay you back,” Percy croaked. “I’ll… I’ll find the bodey sobewhere.”

Paul ruffled his hair again. “How about this. You rest, get some sleep and actually take the time to fight off this head cold and then I’ll consider the debt repaid. How does that sound?”

Percy gave him a sleepy smile. He snuggled into his blankets. “... You’re too dice.”

Paul chuckled. “Hardly. Now get some sleep. I can tell you’re tired.”

Percy nodded. 

Paul patted his shoulder. He stood up, tiptoeing out of the room, flicking off the lights on his way out. Sally met him at the door. “How is he?”

“Sniffly. Tired. He’s gonna get some sleep now. He doesn’t seem to be too sick. I think he’ll recover fairly quickly,” Paul recounted.

Sally nodded. “Is he in okay spirits?”

Paul thought. He gave a sigh. “... He’s doing his best.”

Sally closed her eyes. Not for the first time, Paul wished he could read her mind. Finally, she whispered “... And you say he’s asleep?”

“He’s resting, yeah. I made him agree to take some time to recover. I don’t think it’ll be too long of a recovery if he takes care of himself.”

Sally opened her eyes. “... I’ll give him some nectar. I think he still has some in the bathroom. That should help.” She turned, almost stumbling into the kitchen. 

Paul followed her. When he found her, she was clutching the edge of the counter, hanging her head over the sink. “Are you okay?”

“... I wish I could help him,” Sally whimpered. 

“You are, though,” Paul argued. “You’re giving him nectar and love and a warm place to sleep. You’re doing just fine.”

Sally wiped her eyes. “... I just wish I could help him with the… the emotions. He’s so… I mean, don’t you see it? Paul, my son is in _agony!_ How am I not supposed to feel like I failed him?”

Paul rubbed her back between her shoulder blades with one gentle hand. “... You’re doing your best,” he whispered. “You can’t do any more than you’re already doing for him.”

Sally took a deep breath. She gave Paul that look he hated, the one that said that there was a long, long story that he would never know. “... I’ll take your word for it.”


	112. Mentions of Percabeth, Sally/Paul- Was Thinkin' 'Bout Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> theworstapollo requested that I write a sequel of sorts to 116 that focuses more on Percy's childhood trauma, talking about it with either Sally, Paul or Annabeth. Since I'd already written one where he and Annabeth talk about it, I decided to write one focusing on Percy and Sally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of child/spousal abuse, Percy has scars (both emotional and physical) and also there's stuff he's scared to talk to Annabeth about.
> 
> Also, Percy still has that head cold. So he's talking funny.

It was another few hours before Sally checked on Percy again.

He was awake when she entered. She could see one eye peeking out from over the side of his pillow. His eyes were still bloodshot. He was wrapped up like a blue burrito in his comforter, only a tiny bit of his face was visible. “... Percy?” she whispered.

“Mm?” 

“Are you feeling any better?”

Percy shook his head slightly. 

Sally sat down by his bed, stroking the small puff of his hair that was visible through his blankets. “Did you sleep any?”

Percy shook his head again. His mouth was slightly open. Drool glistened on his lip. 

“Why not? Was it just too uncomfortable?”

Percy sniffled. He pushed out of his blanket burrito just enough to blow his nose into a tissue. “No. I’m… it’s… I…” He yawned, “... was thinkin’ ‘bout stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“... ‘M sorry,” he whispered. “... I shoulda known sooder.”

“That the car was going to crash? Don’t worry about it,” Sally soothed. “No one’s blaming you for the car.”

“... Dot about the car,” he sniffled. “‘Bout you.”

Sally’s eyes widened. “Why about me? You should be thinking about _you_ right now, not about me.”

Percy was silent for a long time. He huddled deeper into his blankets, almost as if he was trying to hide. He closed his eyes. Sally heard a faint sniffle from inside the bundle. “... Why didn’t you tell be?”

“Why didn’t I tell you what?”

“... That Gabe was hitting you.”

Sally started. Her stomach clenched. “... Why are you thinking about that now?”

“... ‘Cuz I was thidking about the ass beating I would have got if I had wrecked his car ad dot Paul’s,” he grumbled. 

“Is that why you weren’t sleeping?” Sally asked.

“... Yeah,” Percy whispered. “I mean, if you had told me, I could have done sobething sooder.” _I’m such a failure of a son. Such a worthless piece of shit. I couldn’t protect my mother. I couldn’t protect anything._

Sally kissed his nose, one of the few parts of him she could see. “You couldn’t have done anything, sweetie. You were just a little kid. I’m the parent here. I’m the adult. I should be the one protecting _you,_ not the other way around.”

Percy sniffled. “I… but I… I could have…”

“Shh. Don’t worry about it.” She pushed back the blankets, revealing Percy’s full face. “Look at me, sweetie, okay?”

Percy met her eyes. His eyes were filled with a crushing exhaustion, like he had been running for forty years without a rest. 

It made Sally’s heart ache.

She took a breath, taking his face in her hands. “It was _not_ your fault. It was _never_ your fault. It was a decision I made out of desperation that wound up hurting us both. Do _not_ blame yourself for this, okay?”

Tears fell on Sally’s fingers. “... But… but if I had done sobething…”

“You couldn’t have done jack shit, Percy. Jack. Shit. There’s nothing you could say to change that. You were twelve when he died. You hadn’t hit puberty, you hadn’t entered high school, you hadn’t come _close_ to a state of maturity where you should be expected to protect anyone or anything.” She took a deep breath, releasing Percy’s face and squeezing a section of blankets to help calm herself down. “And Percy, don’t forget, you gave me the key to the exit. You saved me in the end. You did way more than you should have had to.” 

Percy was silent. Tears trickled down his cheeks. “... I’b sorry. I dow… I dow you don’t like to thidk about it. I know you wadda forget.”

Sally brushed the tears away. “... I think I’m dealing better than you.”

“... You’re a lot strodger than I ab,” Percy whispered. 

She smiled. “You’re too sweet. No, I have my bad moments. I have my _really_ bad moments. Paul helps a lot. _You_ help a lot. I’m just worried that you don’t have anybody to comfort you in times like these.”

“... Does Paul dow about… how he disappeared?” Percy asked suddenly.

Sally sighed. “... Yes. I told him. He was… he made me promise not to do the same to him.” She gave a bitter chuckle. “I told him it wasn’t likely.” 

“... Man’s a saidt,” Percy mumbled. “For stayig with us. Guy deserves a Dobel prize.”

Sally laughed, a real one this time. “I’ll tell him you said that. He’ll be flattered. But you changed the subject. Do you have someone who helps you? Comforts you?”

Percy sniffled. “... Addabeth helps.”

Sally smiled. “As she should.”

Percy focused on the threads of his pillow. “I… I biss her… whed is she cobig back agaid?”

“Just a week or so,” Sally soothed. “It’ll pass before you know it.”

Percy nodded. His eyes fluttered shut. “... I hope so.” 

He was silent for a few moments. Tiny fragments of Gabe’s voice still spun in his head. _Worthless… dirty… why is he here? I’ll give him five minutes to pack his bags. I’m calling the cops. Get in here. It’s time for our special guy time._ Percy automatically clenched his buttcheeks, the ghost of a belt buckle gashing across his thighs and rear. He took a deep breath. _… Annabeth is gonna find out about those scars one day. And when that happens, you’re gonna need to tell her the truth, because she’s not gonna buy the skateboarding accident excuse that you normally use. She’s smarter than that._ He rubbed his thighs, a ghostly soreness filling his skin. _I wonder how she’ll react to realize I wasn’t even able to fight off one mortal man._

_I wonder if she’ll think I’m shit for it._

“... I don’t dow why she stays with be,” Percy whispered. “I bead, I don’t offer very buch.”

Sally kissed his cheek. “She stays with you because you’re a sweet, noble guy with a good heart. That’s why.” 

Another odd tear slipped over the bridge of Percy’s nose. “... I think _he_ would say otherwise.”

Sally cupped her hands on his cheeks again. “Don’t take his words as proof of your character. A terrible person will always see a good person as terrible. You’re not what he says you are. Anyone who looks deeper can see the beauty in your heart. _Anyone._ And I’m not just saying that because I’m your mother. I’m saying that because I’ve heard it again and again--from Grover, from Annabeth, from Paul. You’re not a monster. You’re not worthless. You’re not dirty. You’re not _bad.”_ She brushed the tears out of his eyes. “So don’t go around thinking that you are.”

Pure agony flashed across Percy’s face. “... You’re the best,” Percy sniffled once he’d regained control. “You’re just… I love you, okay?” His voice broke. “... And it hurts, it hurts so bad, and I don’t know how to make it better, for myself or for you, and I just want… I want to help you, and I want to stop the pain, but I… I don’t know how.”

“My damage isn’t yours to repair,” Sally soothed. “You absolutely should _not_ have to repair your mother’s damage when it comes to romance and sex. You cannot be in that sphere of my life. I love you. I do. But if I tried to bring you into that section of my life I’d be a damned sexual abuser. It’s Paul’s job to deal with that. I told him I’d been in a bad situation on our third date. He knew what he was getting into. When we got married, he promised to help me out with this sort of thing…”

“It was id your vows. Yeah, I rebebber,” Percy sighed.

“Yeah. And he does a great job. Percy, I’m _okay._ I promise. It’s you I’m concerned about.” Sally gave his cheeks one last little stroke before letting go, allowing the pillow to cradle Percy’s head in her place. “I mean, how much does Annabeth know?”

“... She dows it was bad. I don’t dow if she dows how physical it was.”

Sally raised an eyebrow. “So you’ve told her nothing.”

Percy pursed his lips. “... Do, she dows he was a bad guy.”

“But save that?”

“... I’ve told her dothing,” Percy admitted. “... I’b sorry. It just… it’s really… paidful. To this day. It stigs. It stigs a lot. And I… I have a really hard tibe talkig about it. I mean, I can joke, but whed I try to be serious, it hurts too buch, and I shut down so I wod’t cry.”

Sally stroked his cheek for a moment. She took a deep breath. “... Do you think she’ll shame you if you cry in front of her?”

Percy shrugged, leaning into her touch. “... I dod’t… I dod’t really dow. I albost started cryig id frodt of her last subber and she cobforted be before I could start.”

“That’s a good sign,” Sally murmured. “Comfort is always a good sign.”

Percy nodded. “... Yeah. I bead, I dow I’m godda have to tell her evedtually. I bead, I still… I have… scars, as I dow you do too, and I dow that I’m not godda be able to hide theb frob her forever, but… there’s a part of be that wants to protect her frob it for as long as I cad, you know?”

Sally smiled, her face impossibly soft. “I know how it feels. But Annabeth is a fighter. I’m sure she’ll be able to handle it.”

Percy shrugged. “I dow she’ll be able to haddle it, but that doesn’t bead I wadt to bake her, you dow?”

“... You’re too sweet. Just… don’t hurt yourself in the name of protecting her, okay? It may seem like the noble thing to do, but in the end, lack of openness will only hurt the relationship,” Sally reasoned.

Percy gave a small nod. “... I’ll try. It just… it hurts.”

Sally kissed his forehead. “I know. It’s okay to hurt. No one’s blaming you for hurting.” Her breath was soft against his face. “If you need to cry, you should be able to cry. It might provide some release.”

Percy’s breath hitched slightly. He buried his face in the pillow and curled up on himself a little more. He made a strangled little noise in the back of his throat, a helpless little sound. “Oh, baby,” Sally cooed. “You sound so _shattered._ You have to have been suppressing that for so long. Let it out, honey, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Percy’s shoulders began to shake. Silent sobs broke from his throat. Sally moved in, pulling him close, as close as she could over her pregnant stomach. He buried his face in the crook of her elbow, huddled in close, and let himself cry. 

Sally held him until his sobs tapered, until the terrible pressure in his chest eased, until he could draw breath without it hurting, until the screaming voices in his head quieted and he could feel nothing but his mother’s soft hand stroking over the back of his neck. The world had went warm and hazy, something in his chest had gone numb, still and unfeeling. The seemingly endless well of tears he’d held had dried up and all that remained was emptiness. He lifted his head. Sally lifted hers off of where it had rested on Percy’s side and gave Percy a sad smile. “Are you feeling better, baby?”

Percy sniffled. He blew his nose again. “... I’m… numb, I guess. It doesn’t hurt as sharply as it did before. And I’m… I’m really cold for some reason.”

“Well then, you’re in the right place,” Sally laughed. “Stay here and sleep. It’ll help.”

Percy hugged himself. “... Will you stay with me?”

Sally laughed. “Of course.” She kissed his cheek. “Of course I’ll stay with you.” She put her arms back around Percy.

Percy smiled. “... Thanks,” he whispered. “... I love you, okay?”

Sally chuckled, running a hand through Percy’s thick soft hair, so much like his father’s. “I love you too, baby. Now sleep. You’ve earned your rest.”

Percy’s eyes fell shut. He released a soft breath, melting into the softness of his mattress, his pillow, the warmth of his blanket. His body felt like a sack of rocks. He couldn’t have managed any meaningful movement if he’d tried. But… that was okay. He was warm. He was comfortable. His mom was petting his hair like he mattered, like he was precious, and it was so soft in his sore chest that it almost got him choked up again. He took a deep breath, exhaling out the pain, breathing in the feeling of _blanket_ and _cuddles._

It was okay. He could rest. No one would beat him. No one would insult him. No one would hurt him.

He cuddled in and let himself drift away.


	113. Non-shippy (vague, implied Apollo/Hermes)-From Whatever Corner Of The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is immediately after Manhattan. No one can find Hermes anywhere. Somewhat annoyed that his mail isn't getting delivered, Zeus tells Apollo to go find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Zeus being kind of a dick, mentions of withdrawal, mentions of war, violence and insanity, Apollo being somewhat insensitive at times, lots and lots of grief.

_Knock, knock._

Apollo turned from where he was putting away the sun chariot. Dionysus leaned heavily against the doorway to the garage, silhouetted in the rising moonlight, his arms crossed over the stomach of his Hawaiian shirt. “Brother,” Apollo greeted.

Dionysus gave a nod in recognition. “Father wants a word with you.”

Apollo’s stomach curled low and cold. “... About what?”

Dionysus shrugged. “I am not entirely sure. However, he does seem to be in decent spirits, so I wouldn’t fear.”

Apollo took a deep breath. He bounced on his toes. “Well, I’m sure that the _most awesome_ god on Olympus would never--”

“--Spare me,” Dionysus interrupted. “Withdrawal is its own personal Tartarus already without your constant boasting ringing in my brain. Now can your ego before Father does it for you.”

Apollo’s nostrils flared. “I do _not_ have an ego, brother. I merely speak the facts.”

“Ohhh, Fates! Just go!” Dionysus slammed the palm of his hand against the doorframe. “At this rate, I’m starting to _hope_ he smites you!”

Apollo merely laughed. “Well then, your hopes are gravely misplaced. Goodbye, my dear little brother.” He vanished in a burst of light.

Dionysus shook his head. _Funny how the littlest brother can be so much more mature than all the elders._

Apollo appeared before Zeus’s throne in a burst of brilliant light. “Father.”

Zeus stirred slightly. He almost looked as if he had been in a trance. “Apollo. Have you seen your little brother?”

“Which one? I just saw Dionysus.”

“Not that one, you dolt!” Zeus thundered. “Your other little brother. _Hermes._ Fates, what kind of idiot grew from my seed?”

Apollo felt a sting in his breast. “... In my defense, Father, you are quite… ah… progenitive.”

Zeus puffed his chest. “Why yes, my son. _Now_ you speak some sense. Anyway, if you can listen for more than a second or two, then we can actually get somewhere regarding our dear messenger, now can’t we?”

“... Yes, Father,” Apollo whispered, bowing his head.

“Now son. Have you seen Hermes today?”

Apollo took a deep breath. “He was kneeling by a fountain post-battle. He did not speak to me and shooed away any attempts at conversation. I have not seen him since. Why are you so interested?”

Zeus huffed. “At Hestia’s request, I wrote Hades a thank-you note. I need someone to deliver it.”

“Since when do you listen to _Hestia?_ She’s not even an Olympian!”

“I listen to her sometimes. Just not often,” Zeus defended. “I mean, it took two minutes of my time.”

Apollo puffed his cheeks. “... Okay. Well… what should I do?”

“Excellent question, my dear son! I want you to go find your brother, in whatever corner of the world he is moping in, and return him here. I want him at my feet in two days' time.”

“... Could you not have a demigod do this?” Apollo asked.

“And who would you send? Your shattered little ten-year old girl? Your boy who’s only a healer? Or would we use this chance to heap more unnecessary glory on my brothers’ sons?”

Apollo’s heart twisted in his chest. “... I am very aware of the fact that my children are now three instead of nineteen. Rubbing salt in my wounds will not help me. I accept your quest. I will find Hermes. But please, _please_ don’t injure my heart further. I will break. I cannot handle it.”

“Spare me,” Zeus sighed. “I do not need to handle your problems. I have enough of my own. Now leave. I’m tired of looking at your face.”

Apollo felt a chill, a lowness, behind his breastbone. “... Yes, Father.” He gave a small bow and vanished into light. 

  
  


When he reappeared, he was standing on the very edge of Olympus, watching the city sprawl out beneath him. It was slowly regaining life, breathing again. He sat down to watch the process, relaxing his body, letting his feet kick off the edge.

Noise was starting up. Fires were being extinguished. Music was being played. People were laughing and shouting and fighting and procreating and doing all those things that mortals loved to do. Amid all of that, wounded children limped their way out of the city, leaving for something Apollo could only barely see over the horizon. He watched as his poor son made trip after trip, picking up the wounded, the dying, the dead. Apollo could sense that there was something rotting at his body, an infection--why hadn’t he cured that? Had he even _seen_ Will Solace after the battle? 

Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure he had. 

He made a mental note to go do something about Will’s injury later. He had to find Hermes now. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He felt the fullness of his godly mind extending over the earth, under the sky. It was nighttime, not his element, but he supposed he could manage. He belonged to the sky as much as his twin sister. _Speaking of her, I should enlist her help,_ he reasoned. 

_Art,_ he thought. _Hey. Art. Aaaart! Pay attention to me!_

 _Polly, you arrogant cuckwaffle,_ came the reply. _You know I’m busy now._

Apollo completely ignored her. _Father told me to find Hermes. Can you see Hermes from where you are?_

_He’s about fifty feet down the hill about a quarter mile to your left. He’s been there for a while now. I saw him earlier on a routine patrol. Now fuck off already and let me do my work._

_Thanks, sweetheart!_ Apollo thought gaily, cutting off the connection before the litany of expletives and rage that was sure to follow could blast him in the brain. He chuckled to himself and looked down the mountainside. It was unkempt, with plenty of stubby, malformed gray rocks and tall grass fluttering in a thin breeze. He took a deep breath and stepped from the lovely marble platform he had been perched on onto the steep side of the mountain.

The walk was slow. The mountainside was a 30 degree angle at its shallowest, and more often it drifted up to 45 degrees or even more. His ankles burned as he picked his way over the rocks. The grass tickled at his muscular calves in the worst way. The times when he had to drop to his knees and crawl to avoid tripping and falling were even worse. Apollo vowed to never walk through high grass again, even if Zeus was telling him to. 

It felt like forty years before he saw Hermes’s familiar silhouette, perched on a large rock that jutted from the side of the mountain. A jolt of new energy shot through his weary calves. He jumped up and ran like he hadn’t since he was a young god. “Hermes!”

Hermes barely stirred, even when Apollo jumped up and perched on the rock next to him. His eyes were glazed over and focused on the ground. His hair hung dull and dark about his face. His face was pale. He was mindlessly chewing his lip. His caduceus lay uselessly on the ground; George and Martha lay still amongst the grass. The wings on his sandals hung limp around the soles of his feet. They looked half plucked of feathers. 

All in all, he looked smaller, younger, softer than he normally did.

“Hermes,” Apollo panted. “What’s gotten into you?”

Hermes’s eyelids drifted shut. “... May is dead, isn’t she? She died when Luke died.”

Apollo cocked his head. “... May? Who’s May? Oooh, that woman you liked! Yeah, she was hot. I… I don’t know, Hermes. I don’t know if she’s alive or dead.”

Hermes hiccuped slightly. “... I know she’s dead. I just… I felt her pass. Directed her to the… next place, like I have with almost all my other loves and all my other children. And… I… It’s… something is missing from this world. Something that will never be restored. She died alone...” he drew a shaky breath, “... and cold, without anyone to help in the end. Without anyone to make her feel any better.” A full sob broke from his lips. He curled away from Apollo. “At least your damned oracle stole her sanity so she didn’t realize what was happening.”

“... My oracle?” Apollo asked dumbly. 

_“Yes,_ your fucking oracle!” Hermes exploded. “Apollo, she was such a beautiful, vibrant woman! Your oracle _fucking destroyed_ her! Luke could have had a normal life! He could have had a mother! He could have felt loved, accepted, like he had a family! And you know he wouldn’t have done what he did if he’d felt loved and accepted and all that jazz. Apollo, you… you…” He gasped. Another round of harsh sobs broke from his lips. 

“... I deserved my losses?” Apollo guessed wildly, taking the harshest insult he could imagine.

Tears rolled freely down Hermes’s cheeks. He nodded. 

Apollo took a breath. “... Perhaps I could have done more.”

“You’re the god of prophecy. You should have known that May would wind up being important in some way,” Hermes wept. “Apollo, this entire war could have been prevented if either one of us had done _one little thing!”_ He closed his eyes, leaning away from Apollo. 

“... I’m sorry,” Apollo suddenly murmured. “I’m very sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to cause… this. I should never have allowed my oracle to cause you and May and… and even Luke the level of suffering that I did.”

Hermes took a deep breath. “... Luke is gone. May is gone. I never got to… never got to give her a goodbye kiss. And Luke… I kissed his forehead before, but… but it was far too late by then. I just wish… Apollo, I’d give up all of this, this godhood, immortality, powers, anything if I could just rewind the clock and… and make a family. A family with Luke and May.” His voice broke again.

“But you’d be _mortal,”_ Apollo said, as if the word was a swear to him.

“Mortals worry about so little. It would be pleasant,” Hermes whispered. 

Apollo gently put a hand on his shoulder. “I worry about you sometimes, Hermes.”

Hermes sniffled. “... I am in agony,” he whispered. “My heart feels like it’s been stabbed a thousand times. I feel like I have died a thousand deaths. Apollo…” He sat up a little, holding his hands together, to his chest, as if he was protecting something that was very, very sore, “... the pain is so great, I feel as if I shall fade.”

Apollo reached out, touching his hands. “Would you like a sacrifice? Some chocolate? Wine? A bull? I can find you a red one if that’s your desire.”

Hermes touched Apollo’s lips. “I have all I desire, and what I don’t have, I can acquire. For a supposedly greedy god of thieves, I want for very little. Sacrifices will not bring back May. It will not bring back Luke. It will not bring back all those Luke slew. It will not bring back my other lovers, my other friends, so many I have guided throughout the years. Sacrifices do nothing but pump our ego and make us feel good. They bring back no one. They do nothing for my pain.” 

He took a deep breath. “And my sons… my dear remaining sons… they will provide the sacrifices tomorrow, like they always do. I will receive some M&Ms, from Connor Stoll, and a bread roll, from Travis Stoll. Cecil Markowitz will sacrifice whatever Lou Ellen Blackstone doesn’t eat. Chris Rodriguez is the wild card--I’ve received whole meals from him on some days, and other days I only get a tiny chunk of something. And I will get those tomorrow, and I will look at them, and my stomach will ache and ache. And when I am seated in my agony, there will be no one to come to my aid, no thoughts I can use to comfort myself. For May is dead. And Chris’s mother Marta despises me, as does Donna Stoll. And Valorie Markowitz has been dead ten years.”

Apollo took Hermes’s hand, rubbing over the knuckles with one tender thumb. “... Your soul is very bruised,” he whispered. 

“... That’s an understatement,” Hermes whispered.

Apollo kissed Hermes’s fingers. “Would being held against a friendly chest help?”

Hermes closed his eyes. He leaned forwards, falling against Apollo. Apollo grabbed hold of him, pulling him close, curling him in his arms like he was a little kid. It was with a shock that Hermes realized that he’d never really been a little kid, never been held in that way. Sure, his mother had loved him, but he’d left the nest only hours after he’d been born. But now, pressed close to Apollo’s broad, bronze chest, he started to realize what he was missing. Hermes felt Apollo’s chest rise and fall steadily with his breath, felt his heartbeat run steady in his veins. Apollo was so _soft,_ his chest felt like a pillow, but at the same time sturdy and immovable. He was warm, like the sun was warm, but it wasn’t the uncomfortable baking heat that Hermes had always associated with lying under the sun. It was gentle in a way, almost healing. Apollo smelled like the skin of an orange, sweet and fruity. It reminded him of the good old days, of being sprawled on his back under a seemingly endless sky surrounded by any number of companions, mortals, nymphs, gods, demigods, anyone, really; of laughing and hooting and pranking and stealing, of a time when kindness and worship were in endless supply. 

It was something he deeply missed.

Hermes took a deep breath, filling his sinuses with sweetness, with memories. He remembered, with an aching sadness, that May had held the same scent when they’d first met. “... She was pure,” Hermes mumbled. “May. When I first met her. She was very pure. Very innocent. She’d been raised as an only daughter. Overprotective parents. She’d just been orphaned. I could smell the pain rolling off of her in waves. She looked… very ill. I asked her if she needed a ride home and she agreed. I stole a car that day. I stole a car to drive a girl I’d just met home. When we got home, she invited me in. _Invited me in._ No one does that these days. Anyway, she made me… she made me a peanut butter sandwich.” _Ironic. So ironic._ “And we talked and talked and talked. It was hours before I left. And when I left she gave me a hug and her hair smelled like orange peels and it was then that… that I knew I was fucked.”

“You were in love,” Apollo murmured, his chest rumbling gently against Hermes’s side.

“I was so in love,” Hermes whispered. “I was exhaustively, painfully in love.”

“... I’m sorry,” Apollo whispered, his breath warm over Hermes’s forehead. “Love is painful, isn’t it?”

“... I don’t know.” Hermes’s voice broke. He took a deep breath. “It seems sweet for the mortals. Or at least they behave as if it doesn’t pain them.”

Apollo gave him a little squeeze. “That is an immortal’s curse. We sit and watch as all of our lovers die, our children, our grandchildren. And we try to tell ourselves that oh, it doesn’t matter, they’re just like ants, these mortals, they’re totally dispensable. But that’s not the truth, not really. Some mortals are just worth so much more. Like your May, your Marta, your Donna, your Valorie. My Hyacinthus, my Naomi Solace, my Mary-Anne Fletcher, my Latricia Lake, my Darren Knowles. Your Travis, your Connor, your Chris and Cecil and however many others. My Will and my Kayla. So much more.” He took a deep breath of the cool night air. “So much more.”

“... So much more,” Hermes whispered, nuzzling gently into the soft cloth that covered Apollo’s chest. “They’re all worth so much more.”

They were silent. Apollo traced mindless patterns over Hermes’s back. He studied Hermes’s sandals. The wings looked less bare, less _dead_ than they had before, but they weren’t fluttering like they did normally. 

“... The wings are connected to your emotions, aren’t they?”

Hermes gave a small nod.

“... That makes sense,” Apollo agreed. He took a deep breath, looking down at the wings, still unmoving, like a dead dove. “... You were right when you said you were dying inside.”

“... I am,” he murmured. “... I don’t… I feel very… empty. Sad. I don’t quite know why. I’m just… so tired.”

“I’m sorry,” Apollo soothed, petting Hermes’s hair. “Is there… what can I do?”

Hermes closed his eyes, pressing a little further into Apollo’s broad chest. “... No. And that’s the painful thing. You cannot help. No one can help.”

Apollo held him as tightly as he could, practically crushing Hermes against him. “... I’m so… I’m so sorry.”

“... Not your fault,” Hermes mumbled. “I know I blamed you, but really, it… it isn’t your fault. It was no one’s fault but… but Kronos’s. If it weren’t for him, a good boy would never have been taken away. There would have been no war.”

“That ‘good boy’ despised you,” Apollo sighed. “You know that, right?”

“... I know.” His voice broke. “I know he despised me. He was right. I wasn’t… I didn’t do what needed to be done. I didn’t help May in any way. I didn’t support him. I didn’t do anything I should have. I could have stopped all of this. I should have.”

“... Don’t blame yourself. I am the god of prophecy and even I could not have foreseen something of this magnitude. You were correct when you said that the blame rests on no shoulders but Kronos’s. Don’t blame yourself, dear brother.” Apollo kissed his dark curls. 

Hermes hiccuped. “... But it… it hurts, and… and I don’t know how to… how to make it stop…”

Apollo sighed. “... I know. I bear the pain as well.” He looked up, seeing the moon shining softly, constant and reassuring. “And I don’t know how to ease it either.”

Hermes sniffled. He pulled away slightly, only barely lifting his head from that beautiful bronze pillow it had laid upon for only the moment it took to wipe his runny nose. He met Apollo’s eyes, beautiful azure orbs shining out of a tan, freckled face. “... Do you think it’ll ever get better?”

Apollo closed his eyes. Hermes noticed a small freckle on his left eyelid. “... I don’t know. I really don’t. I mean, I still hurt over Hyacinthus and that was… oh, gods, has it already been three thousand years?”

Hermes almost laughed, despite the heavy ache in his chest. “It has, brother. In fact, I believe it’s been three thousand and sixty-seven.”

“... It’s unreal,” Apollo murmured. “It’s very unreal. Immortality… I wouldn’t give it up for anything, but sometimes… it’s a bit dizzying.”

Hermes nodded. “Feels like only yesterday that I held May for the first time. I know two decades isn’t even close to three millennia, but still.”

“And even twenty years later, you still love her?” 

Hermes leaned back into the soft expanse of Apollo’s chest. “... Yes.”

Apollo closed his eyes, enjoying the tickle of Hermes’s curls on his neck. “... Aphrodite is cruel.”

“Cruelest among us,” Hermes agreed. 

They held each other for a moment. Finally, Apollo spoke again. “... No matter how many of your loves die, your children…”

“Mm?”

“... I’m still here, okay? I’m not leaving. Is that clear?” 

A flare of warmth burst behind Hermes’s breastbone, heat filled his insides. He swallowed back the thick lump in his throat and murmured “Big words from the guy whose prized red cows I stole.”

Apollo kissed his curly head. “Stop it, brother. You know as well as I do that you and I have made peace. Do not allow yourself to be wounded over a mistake you made so many thousands of years ago.”

Hermes allowed a few more tears to fall down his cheeks. “... You are being too kind to me, Apollo. I cannot… it is too painful to feel right now. Please, spare me the kindness until we are back to our normal selves.”

“When we are not so fragile,” Apollo whispered. 

“Yes,” Hermes begged. “Yes. Please.”

“... I will spare you,” Apollo agreed. “I will not say any more. All I want to say is that I am staying. I will not leave you. Okay?”

“Unless Father makes you mortal again,” Hermes sniffled quietly.

Apollo shuddered. “Ugh. Don’t say the m-word in that context. I think I’d die if he did that to me again.”

Once again, Hermes almost laughed. “All right, brother.”

He lingered against Apollo’s chest for a time. The searing burn in his chest was somewhat soothed by Apollo’s presence, his affections, his care. Finally, Apollo shifted a bit. “... I’m uncomfortable. Can we go inside?”

“I’m not,” Hermes mumbled, not wanting to lose the heat, the comfort, that wrapped him. “I like it here.”

“Of course you’re comfortable. You’re resting in my lap. But brother, the sacred buns went numb ten minutes ago. That is unacceptable. Is your place still standing?”

Hermes nodded. “Yeah. Most of it, anyway.”

“Thank the gods. Mine was trashed. Anyway, would you allow me to take you home?” 

“Yeah, su--” Hermes’s voice was cut off by a yawn. He let his eyes fall closed. “Sure.”

“Crying has tired you, my little one,” Apollo cooed softly. “I will take you to bed.”

Hermes gave a small nod. “Please.”

Hermes felt himself being lifted into the air. “You’re light,” Apollo chuckled, his voice a soft vibration against Hermes’s side. “You’re like a bird. No wonder those sandals work so well for you.”

“... I have light bones,” Hermes grumbled. “Not all big and fatty like yours.”

“Is that why you break them all the time, brother?” Apollo laughed. 

Hermes ignored him, choosing instead to huddle a little closer to Apollo’s chest. “Just take me home.”

Apollo hummed assent, nodding. Teleportation sent a familiar tug through Hermes’s gut. The soft press of a mattress against his back followed a second later, followed by the feeling of his trademark sandals being removed. “Is that better?” Apollo asked.

Hermes opened his eyes. His familiar bedroom greeted him. Apollo was sitting on the side of his bed, which was only a little more than a pile of blankets draped over a mattress on the floor. He’d never been comfortable with opulence. Grimy travel was more his speed. He liked to save intricacies for when he planned heists, not for when he was decorating. Apollo was the only light source in the room. He was emanating a soft golden light. “... Yeah, it’s better,” Hermes murmured. “But… it’s not as… it’s not as nice as your chest.”

“Well, of _course,”_ Apollo boasted. “Nothing is as nice as being held by me. Especially not… this.” He gestured to Hermes’s bedding, his nose wrinkled.

“I’ve always been more comfortable with simpler things. Besides, it’s not like it’s unclean. I keep it tidy in here. It’s just not as overblown and opulent as the fucking concert hall you call a bedroom.”

 _“Tidy?_ Really?” Apollo snorted. “The bed wasn’t even made! The blankets were all in a pile half on the bed and half on the floor!” 

Hermes grumbled, pressing his face into his familiar soft, cushy pillow. “Stop yellin’ at me.”

Apollo sighed. He stroked his hand gently over Hermes’s cheek. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I don’t mean to keep yelling at you. I get… I mean, you’re a god. You could have anything you wanted. Why do you live like this?”

Hermes closed his eyes, savoring the touch. “I enjoy it. I told you, I like simpler things. They’re more beautiful than something that’s needlessly complicated.”

Apollo was quiet. He sighed. “... Why does that make sense?”

“It just does,” Hermes shrugged. “Also, where are George and Martha?”

“Those damn snakes you keep? I didn’t pick them up,” Apollo snarked. “They’re probably still back on that hill.”

Hermes sighed heavily. He held his hand out and the caduceus reappeared in his hand. One of the snakes curled around his arms slightly in a gesture that was almost comforting. “Yeah,” Hermes grumbled. “I can make them reappear in my hand, but they don’t like it. See, this kind of disrespect is why they don’t like you.”

Apollo looked at the snakes, watched them squirm and settle as Hermes placed his caduceus next to him in his bed. He shuddered. “... Ugh. All I can see is… Python.”

Hermes looked up. “Really? Every time you see a snake?”

“Every time,” Apollo confirmed.

He pushed George and Martha under his blankets. “Better now?”

“If those things envenomate or suffocate you in your sleep, I am not coming to your aid,” Apollo declared.

“They won’t,” Hermes confirmed. “They love me.”

“I’m sure they do.” Apollo raised himself off of the bed and headed for the door. “Anyway, I’m going now.”

Hermes extended his hand. “... Will you stay? Please? I don’t… I only just started to feel better. I don’t want to be alone to sit in this. Please, I need… I need somebody.”

Apollo’s gaze softened. He moved back towards Hermes, perching himself back on the side of the bed. “Okay. But the snakes have to go somewhere else. I can’t… I’m not strong enough to be near them right now.”

Hermes sighed. He pushed himself to his feet, grabbed the caduceus and moved George and Martha over to a spacious cage in the corner. He dropped two large rats into the cage, leaning the staff itself against the wall. “Here you go, guys. Enjoy.”

Apollo’s stomach squished. He closed his eyes and looked away. His sour face must have betrayed his nausea because Hermes turned around and asked “What’s wrong?”

“... I _really_ don’t like snakes,” Apollo managed.

Hermes managed a slight chuckle. “Well, they’re away now. Nothing to fear.” He half-walked half-fluttered back to the bed, lying down, curling up. “Would you like to lie down?”

Apollo turned up his nose. “I can’t possibly. I’ll get a backache.”

Hermes stuck out his tongue. “Backaches build character.”

“They do not. All they do is hurt.”

Hermes closed his eyes. “... I know, but… my bed would be so much more comfortable with you in it.”

Apollo puffed his cheeks. “... You’re good at this, aren’t you?”

Hermes smiled into his pillow. “I suppose I am,” he murmured.

Apollo sighed. “Scoot over.”

Hermes shifted over to the edge of the bed, giving Apollo enough space to lie down. Apollo lay himself against the wall, pressing his chest to Hermes’s back. “Is this good?” Apollo asked.

“... Very,” Hermes murmured. “... Thank you so much.”

Apollo kissed his curls. “Of course, little one. Now, tomorrow I shall go and raise the sun, so it is likely I will not be here when you awaken. Do not fear if you wake up alone. You were not abandoned.”

“... I will not worry,” Hermes agreed.

“Now sleep,” Apollo murmured. “You are in a great amount of pain. The sleep will be healing for you.”

“... I just have one more… one more question,” Hermes whispered. “Why did you… why did you come to find me?”

Apollo took a deep breath. “... Father wanted me to find you. He has a letter he needs delivered.”

Hermes groaned. “We need to go talk to him, then, not lie here.”

“No, Hermes.” Apollo’s voice was calm and reassuring. He nuzzled Hermes’s neck, taking in his smell, something vaguely sweet, like summer air. “The deadline is in two days. He will be fine. We will report to him tomorrow, after I raise the sun. For now, you need to rest. Your exhaustion is visceral.”

Hermes tilted his head back. Apollo’s nose was tickling him. “... Okay, ‘Pollo. I will… yeah.” 

Apollo stilled his nuzzles, curling up closer to Hermes. “Good. Sleep well.” 

Hermes closed his eyes, focusing only on Apollo’s soft breath on his neck as it softened into the gentle rhythms of sleep. He tried not to focus on the aching void in his heart, the void of _Luke_ and _May_ and _family_ and _love_ and however many other sharp little painful things that were pricking at his tender viscera. 

Almost on cue, Apollo moved his hand to his chest, caressing his sternum gently. Hermes wondered if his heart was so broken it was alerting Apollo’s healer’s intuitions. He took a deep breath and put his own hand over Apollo’s, feeling his knucklebones beneath his soft, healthy skin. It was comforting in ways he couldn’t quite describe.

Eventually, he was able to drift into a light sleep, curled up tightly in Apollo’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25289272/chapters/61314055  
> I've already plugged this fic at least once, but I'm gonna do it again. If you liked this drabble, you should read this. It's not that long and it's written excellently. Hermes gets sick and Apollo and Athena care for him. It's a bit similar to this drabble but Hermes has a high fever on top of being deep into grief. And it's also much better in every conceivable way.
> 
> Also, this is before Austin was brought to camp/claimed. Apollo knows he exists, but Zeus and co. do not. That's why Zeus only speaks of Will and Kayla when he describes Apollo's children.
> 
> Also also, did you notice that I finally learned how to spell "caduceus?"


	114. Non-shippy (mentions of Percabeth)- Let me in, please?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thalia interrupts Percy's lunchtime nap with a request. He fulfills it, and they talk about a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a request fill for Gorilla Bamboo, who requested either Annabeth being bullied in school and Percy coming to save her (which I opted against because at this point, Annabeth scares everybody too much for anyone to bully her) or the Hunters showing up at Percy's school. I opted to write the latter. 
> 
> Warnings for some violence, poisonings, illness. It's also vaguely implied that Thalia is building a fertilizer bomb.
> 
> By the way, I had Paul get a new Prius. It’s identical to the other one but a slightly darker shade of blue. Because fuck you, that’s why.

Percy was slumped heavily behind the wheel of his car, mostly asleep on the wheel. 

It wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t been sleeping well, not really. He was tired, so tired, and that morning it had been nearly impossible not to fall asleep in class. It was lunchtime now, and he’d made the decision to down a can of Coke, take a quick nap and hope he felt better by the end-of-lunch bell. He knew that Annabeth would be deeply disappointed when she found out, but he was beyond caring.

He was almost asleep when someone tapped on his window. _Great. I thought I was out of range of the security guards. Fuck this shit._ He raised his head, ready to plaster on the scowl that usually drove off meddlers, and started when he locked eyes with a familiar pair of electric blues. He rolled down the window. “Fuck you want, Thals?”

“Let me in, please?” Thalia asked. “Seaweed Brain?”

Percy scowled, unlocking the door. “Shut up.”

“Now we’re even, Perce,” Thalia grinned. She flopped into the passenger’s seat of Percy’s--well, Paul’s--new Prius like she’d been doing it her whole life. Her silver jacket sparkled in the light. “So… I bet you’re wondering why I’ve come before you today.”

Percy leaned back, reclining his seat, putting his feet up on the wheel. “Yeah. I am. Last I checked, your kind didn’t really do one-on-one hangouts with men.”

Thalia shrugged. “We don’t. But it’s been a while since I’ve been in New York for any extended period of time and, quite frankly, I got lost. The only reason we found you at all is because there’s this satyr that’s been following us since Ohio and we finally decided to put him to some use.”

“What’s the satyr? Do I know him?”

“Bold of you to assume I bothered to learn his name,” Thalia grumped. “Anyway, I need directions out of the city. I can find my way when I’m in the wilderness but when I’m in the city it all goes to shit.”

Percy sighed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Is it just you?”

“No. It’s me and two others. Hunter and Reyna. The rest of the Hunt went ahead to camp. I just had to take a detour to buy fertilizer and matches.”

“Holup. _Reyna?”_

“Yeah. Quite a catch, right?” Thalia smirked. 

“How’d you get _her?”_ Percy asked incredulously. “She’s the straightest girl I’ve ever known!”

Thalia jabbed her elbow into his ribs. “We are _not_ lesbians, Jackson.”

“Ouch,” Percy lamented.

“We’ve all sworn off of Aphrodite’s influence entirely. That is very, _very_ different than lesbianism. Anyway, could you just give us directions, please?”

“Do you guys even have a car? Last I checked, you didn’t know how to drive.”

“As a matter of fact, yes, Reyna brought one. She’s parked a few feet behind you.” Thalia gestured behind her.

Percy turned around. Reyna was leaning on the wheel of her pickup truck. She gave Percy a noncommittal finger waggle. Percy almost didn’t recognize her. He realized, suddenly, that without her trademark Praetor’s garb she looked like a whole new person. Something rougher, tougher, a bit more wild. More like Thalia than Jason. 

_Jason._ It had barely been a month ago that Grover had rolled into town and told him that he had been killed. He had the sudden realization that Thalia must be grieving quite intensely. Jason was her brother, after all. She had to be in agony. “... Oh,” he mumbled. “Yeah. Hey, listen, Thalia? Can I drive you out of the city and have Reyna follow us? I think we should talk.”

“Don’t you have, like, school or something?”

“Nothing’s happening,” Percy huffed. “All I’ve got is basketball and then one English class that I always sleep through because the teacher likes ‘discussion’ a little too much.”

Thalia snorted. “Makes sense. Anyway, I’ll go tell Reyna about the new plan. Let me out of your car.”

Percy unlocked the door. Thalia jumped out and ran to the driver’s side of Reyna’s car. She exchanged a few words with Hunter and Reyna before returning to Percy’s car, flopping once more down in the passenger seat. She lay her feet up on the dashboard. “A’ight. Let’s go. I told Chiron I’d be in camp by three.”

Percy nodded. He started the car, pulling it slowly from the curb he’d parked it on. He fiddled with the radio for a moment, watching as Thalia repeatedly turned up her nose in judgement at all of the songs that played. He ultimately settled for silence. Best choice in the end. 

Unfortunately, this meant Percy was alone with his thoughts. His mind back drifted to Jason. He wondered, for the millionth time, if he’d felt anything in his final moments, if they were painful or peaceful, if anyone had held him, comforted him. His heart twisted and he gave a long blink. “I’m sorry,” Percy blurted. “I could have… I could have saved him. If I had been there. He was on a boat in a harbor--I could have saved him.”

“What the hell are you even… oh. _Oh.”_ Thalia took a deep breath. “Yeah. Shut the fuck up, Jackson. I coulda busted in there with my army and saved him too. We could have worked together. It coulda been the most epic thing anyone had ever seen. But it didn’t happen, did it? So stop dwelling on what ifs when you were all the way across the country at the time. I was his sister. I should have protected him. End of story. Now shut up and stop being an idiot.”

“... But… I feel so bad, I could have… I spurned Apollo. Refused to help him. If I had helped on the quest, Jason would still be alive.”

“Oh, shut up,” Thalia sighed. “Don’t tantalize me with what could have been. I’ve just reached a point where I don’t cry myself to sleep every night. I don’t want something new to hurt over. Capisce?”

“... Capisce,” Percy mumbled, staring out at the road.

“Look, Jackson, I get it that you’re upset.” Thalia’s voice became slightly softer. “It’s understandable. Jason was your friend. I’m just saying that I’ve got enough grief as is without you, like… _transferring_ it to me.” She wiggled her fingers.

“I wasn’t trying to do that,” Percy defended. “I’d never hurt you on purpose.”

“I know you weren’t. You’re dumb, not malicious,” Thalia sighed. “Anyway, let’s change the subject. How’s Annabeth? Is she holding up okay after… you know, the bad place?”

“She’s… surviving. She has nightmares, as would be expected. She says as long as she’s buried in her work she’ll be okay. I don’t know what’ll happen when it reaches summer and she’s got nothing to do, but… we’ll take it one step at a time, like we always do.”

Thalia nodded. “That’s smart. Tell me she knows where to reach me if she needs somebody, okay?”

Percy nodded. “Will do. Yeah, I think she’d appreciate that.”

“No problem,” Thalia replied. “I mean, she’s like a sister to me. I was… you have no idea how upset I was when I found out. Oh, my gods, I don’t think I slept for days. I mean, look, Perce, if I had been there, I think I would have jumped down after you guys.”

“I don’t think Jason would have let you do that,” Percy murmured. 

“He was too good,” Thalia sighed. She blinked rapidly. “I… ah, fuck, Jackson, I can’t continue this conversation. Not about Jay. It’s only been a month.”

Percy nodded. “... Yeah. Anyway… we made it out. Physically, we’re all right. Emotionally… I mean, we do our best.”

Thalia nodded. “Of course. I mean, I’m just glad that you two have the space and time _to_ figure out your emotions, you know? Like… the life I live now is one where I don’t have the time. And I… I need that, because otherwise I’d be crushed. And I can’t be fuckin’ crushed. I have responsibilities, you know? But sometimes I do wonder, like… what if?”

“What if you had the time and space to be emotional?” Percy asked.

Thalia shrugged. “Yeah. But in the end…” She turned to Percy, giving a smirk. “In the end, I’ve always been a runner. I don’t sit in my shit. I mean, I told Jason, all that old familial pain is his to bear. I’ve ran away.”

Percy nodded. “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “... I hope he’s not in too much pain now.”

“Oh, gods.” Thalia’s voice cracked a little and she took a deep breath. “Oh, gods, I do too.”

There was a pause. “... Traffic’s not that bad today,” Percy mumbled weakly.

Thalia shifted a little. “Yeah, I guess not. How long until we’re out of the city?”

“Not long,” Percy shrugged. “Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, as long as the car doesn’t crash or something.”

“Okay,” Thalia shrugged. She closed her eyes. “Anything else interesting happening?”

“I almost ended the world with a nosebleed.”

“I asked if anything _interesting_ was happening, Jackson,” Thalia nagged. "I mean, that's just a fuckin' Tuesday."

“Um…” Percy thought for a moment. “Nico told me he was gay for me.”

“Okay, _what?”_

“Yeah. Apparently he had a gay thing for me for, like, years,” Percy shrugged. “He said he’s over it now, though.”

“Oh, gods.” Thalia laughed, shaking her head. “I knew the reason he hated you would be really fucking weird and stupid. Either that or Bianca, and he can’t hate _you_ because of Bianca because that’s why he hates _me.”_

Percy sighed. “No, he still hates me for Bianca. It makes sense, though. If I had been quicker…”

“Percy, no. She did what she did. She stole something knowing full well it would lead to her destruction. She made her choice,” Thalia sighed. “I mean, I was in pain at first too. But eventually, I kind of realized that… she was convinced. There was nothing anyone could do to save her.”

Percy made a small miserable noise. “You didn’t have to see Nico’s face when he found out. He was so… he was so _heartbroken,_ Thalia! I mean, how could I forgive myself when I fatally failed one little kid and broke another’s heart in the worst way?”

Thalia just shook her head. “... The Fates are cruel, Percy. I really don’t know what to say.”

Percy took a deep breath. “That’s okay. Um… maybe I should change the subject. Speaking of Nico, does he know that you guys got Reyna?”

“Don’t think so,” Thalia replied. “And _I’m_ sure as hell not gonna tell ‘im.”

“Dude, he’s gonna know. If you show up with Reyna in tow, he’s gonna figure it out pretty quick,” Percy sighed. 

“Nah. We’re just dropping in for a second. We aren’t staying long. We’re gonna camp in the woods. We just need a quick word with Chiron and then we’ll be on our way.”

“... About what?” Percy asked curiously. 

“None of your business. Just know that when I come back, I’ll be wearing fox fur.” Thalia spread her arms dramatically.

“Fox fur, huh? You’re getting fancy, now?”

“Like a 1940s socialite, Jacko!” Thalia replied grandly. “It’ll be the most epic thing you’ve ever seen.” She blew a free strand of hair out of her face. “Anyway, it’s all connected. If it goes right, you’ll never find out how.”

Percy nodded. “I think I’m okay with that.”

“Good.” Thalia scanned him intently. “Good.”

  
  
  


They’d just got out of the city and were driving down a small tree-lined road between suburbs when something jingled on Thalia’s wrist. She poked at what looked like a silver bracelet and a small hologram of a silver-haired girl popped up. “Alright, Hunter, what’s your problem?”

“Thalia. We have a little… situation.”

“What kind?” Thalia hung her head out the window. Some weird little smoke wisps were following the car. “Fuck are those guys?”

“I don’t know,” Hunter replied. “What should we do?”

“Pull over, shoot an arrow at them and see what happens,” replied Thalia. “Same way we deal with everything.” She cut the connection, turning to Percy. “Pull over.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Apparently we’re being chased,” Thalia sighed. “Anyway, park the car. Hunter and Reyna and I are gonna take them. You can do what you do, I guess.”

“What I’m gonna do is fight by your side,” Percy insisted. 

Thalia rolled her eyes. “Oh, Perce. Ever the manly-man. How does Annabeth stand you? All right, come on. If you die, it’s your own sorry fault.” Thalia burst from the car, deploying Aegis and her spear. 

Percy followed, Riptide in his hand. Reyna and the other girl--Hunter--already had their bows trained on the three smoky things. Percy flinched. “Don’t get close to those damn things!”

“Why not?” Thalia shot back.

“Those are _nosoi._ Plague spirits. I’ve fought them before. They can shoot this… this cloud at you and they make you really really sick. Don’t get close to them unless you want to spend the next two weeks out of commission,” Percy panted.

Reyna turned. She looked Percy up and down, almost like she was sizing him up. “... And what’s your plan to fight them? Thalia told me you’re terrible with range weapons.”

“I’ll figure something out. Just… stay as far away from them as you can.”

Reyna backed up. Hunter just snorted, shook her head, and fired from five feet away. The arrow connected, the spirit reeled back, and all three of the spirits immediately turned and shot noxious greenish clouds at Hunter.

Hunter collapsed, hitting the ground like a sack of bricks. She clawed hard at her throat, choking hard. She looked desperately over at Thalia with fever-bright eyes.

Thalia screamed. She held out her hand. “Reyrey, go left!”

Reyna didn’t even pause to whine about the nickname. She dodged hard to the left as a burst of lightning exploded from Thalia’s palm. The spirits turned, trying to dodge, but only one of them succeeded. The other two disintegrated instantly under Thalia’s assault, disappearing into small traces of noxious poison. 

Reyna gave Thalia a nod of approval. She ran a few feet away and shot another couple of arrows over at the one remaining nosoi. It dissolved, bursting. “There we go,” Reyna mumbled.

Thalia ran for Hunter. She took a deep breath, held it, grabbed Hunter out of the cloud and dragged her over to where Reyna was standing. Reyna knelt down, lying Hunter’s head against her knees. Hunter’s face was a pale shade of green. Her lips were the color of milk. She was wheezing hard. “Thalia, there’s a canteen in my truck with a little unicorn horn drawn on it. Will you go find that for me?”

Thalia nodded. She jumped up and ran for the truck.

Percy approached Reyna. “... I’ve got some ambrosia. Would that help?”

“I don’t even know if she’s a demigod or not. I’m keeping it to unicorn draught and moonwater. Stuff even a mortal can stomach,” Reyna replied. She ran her fingers gently over Hunter’s forehead. 

Percy studied her face. “... Her name is Hunter?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just… I don’t know. She looks… I don’t know.”

“Like she’s dying?” Reyna asked.

“... Little bit.”

“She’s not going to die,” Reyna insisted. “She’ll be okay. We’ll make her better.”

Percy nodded. “Of course. I won’t be pessimistic.”

Just then, Thalia returned. She knelt by Hunter’s side. “Okay. I’ve got the canteen.”

Reyna grabbed it from her hand. “Okay. I’m gonna give her some unicorn draught. She should… this should help. It’s a Greek curse. This should work.” She opened the canteen, pressing the mouthpiece against Hunter’s lips. “Can you drink for me, Hunter? Just a little sip? I promise it’ll be good for you.”

Hunter managed a tiny sip. Suddenly, she shot up, falling to her side. She coughed hard, gagging as a runny green vomit spewed from her lips. “F-fuck! Fuck! Reyna!”

Reyna put a hand on Hunter’s back. “You’re okay. You’re okay. You just got a little poison in you. You won’t die.”

Thalia grabbed Hunter’s hair in her rough hands, pulling it back. “Reyna, get her more draught. As soon as she can stop vomiting.”

“She can’t take too much at once. This isn’t like Nico’s shadow magic. She needs to expel this poison the natural way. If we try to make her do it too fast, it could get very, very ugly,” Reyna explained.

“Uglier than this?” Percy asked.

“Much uglier,” Reyna insisted. “Anyway, she can take a little more. Then we’re switching to moonwater. It’s less… destructive. Thalia, will you go get that?”

Thalia nodded and ran back to the truck. Hunter finally swallowed. She groaned and fell hard, curling up in the fetal position on the ground, shivering hard. It wasn’t even a cold day. “... Rey… na…”

“I’ve got you,” Reyna murmured, pushing Hunter’s hair out of her face. “Here, just take one more little sip. It’ll help drive out the poison.”

Hunter leaned her head back. Reyna put the canteen back against her lips. Hunter drank a little more. She pulled away and groaned slightly, sweat breaking out across her body. “... Everything’s spinning.”

“You’re okay,” Reyna soothed, pulling Hunter’s head back into her lap.

“You should take her to camp. Get her some better help,” Percy insisted. 

Reyna’s face paled. “Don’t. We’re not going to Camp Half-Blood. Not all of us. Only Thalia will do that. We can fix her just fine in our camp.”

“If you say so,” Percy conceded. “You don’t want to face Nico right now, do you?”

Reyna nodded. She ran her fingers through Hunter’s hair, almost as if she were trying to ground herself. “No. I don’t. I can’t face the force of that much rage right now. I know eventually he’ll figure it out, but it won’t be today. I can’t… I can’t bear the weight of his disappointment. Not now.”

“Would you like me to tell him?” Percy asked.

“... Not now. I want him… I want to give him some more time to settle in at camp. I don’t want to anger him into running away again, you know?”

Percy nodded. “That’s wise. I’m sorry for suggesting it, but I just… you know. Concerned.”

“Stop being… stop being a good…” Hunter coughed hard, gagging. “... Stop being a good person.”

Percy chuckled, swallowing back a lump in his throat. “My apologies. Also, you sound terrible. You might just want to… rest your throat right now.”

“... Mm,” Hunter grunted. She turned over, curling up in the fetal position, pressing her face harder into Reyna’s thigh.

Thalia returned with yet another canteen. She sat down again, petting Hunter’s hair. “Hunter? Can you drink a little of this? It’s just moonwater, not as strong as Reyna’s unicorn business.”

Hunter raised a shaky hand. Thalia guided the canteen to her mouth and she suckled at it gently. “... Yeah,” Thalia murmured. “Your face is looking a little less green already.”

Hunter didn’t respond. Reyna petted her hair a little more. “Is it okay if Thalia takes care of you on our ride back to our camp? You know I’m the only one who can drive.”

Hunter managed a small nod. 

Reyna nodded. “There’s a good girl. We’ll get you comfortable in the truck bed. You’ll be okay.”

“Mm,” Hunter groaned.

“Thalia, can you lift her?” Reyna asked. “She’s not… I don’t think she can walk right now. She can barely hold her eyes open.”

Thalia bit her lip. “I can damn well try.” She wrapped her arms around Hunter, awkwardly heaving her up in a clunky kind of bridal carry.

Percy tentatively extended a hand. “Do you need--”

“--Help? Nope,” Thalia grunted. “Absolutely not.” She stumbled over to the truck and awkwardly rolled Hunter into the truck bed, hopping in after her. Thalia pulled off her silver coat and balled it under Hunter’s head, creating a pillow for her. Hunter nuzzled into it. Thalia grabbed a sleeping bag from the back of the truck, pulled off Hunter’s shoes, and began the complicated task of stuffing Hunter’s limp, feverish body into the sleeping bag. 

Reyna turned to Percy. She stood up, dodging the puddle of vomit that was slowly sinking into the dirt. “Tell Annabeth I said hi, okay?”

“Will do,” Percy nodded. “She’s gonna be pretty shocked that you joined, though. I mean, I know I was.”

“I had my reasons,” Reyna replied stiffly. “Anyway, we have to go. Have fun in New York.”

“Always do. It’s still my city,” Percy nodded. “Still feels like home.”

Reyna nodded. She crossed over to the truck, hopped in the driver’s seat, and slammed the door. It wasn’t a second later that she was peeling off down the road at speeds Percy’s mom would have killed him for.

Percy took a deep breath. He pursed his lips. _Hope Hunter gets better. It’d be a damn shame if she were to lose her life to a couple of pathetic little plague spirits._

 _… I need to pick up Annabeth. It’s probably almost two-thirty by now. If I’m not back soon, she’s gonna kill me. And Paul needs his ride home as well._ He slipped back behind the wheel of the Prius, taking a deep breath before driving back into the mundane normality of the mortal world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm never gonna not be angry about how much of a bitch Reyna was to Apollo in TTT. The Reyna from BOO would never have treated anyone who wasn't a literal enemy that way. I really think Rick just forgot how to write her and had her do stuff in TTT that were consistent with (some of) her backstory but not her personality. Anyway, if and when I write Reyna, I'm gonna write her like she's SUPPOSED to be written. :)
> 
> Also, "Reyna's Unicorn Business" would be a great name for a band.


	115. Fierrochase/Malex/Beatrice-A Softer Shade Of Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex enters Magnus's bedroom intending on playing a lame prank with a fake snake. 
> 
> She finds him in a bit of a state.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received an ask from Thing_Of_Trash requesting sad!Magnus and Fierrochase. Here is your sad!Magnus. 
> 
> Warnings for mentions of death, mentions of self-harm. Also, I haven't read MCGA in way too long, so if they're a bit off in this, or if I have details wrong, then that's why.

“Snakey, snakey, snakey, I made him out of clayyyy…” Alex’s voice was off-key and vaguely screechy as she sang. Her hands expertly rolled out a small clay snake. “... and when she’s fuckin’ finished, I’ll put it in Maggie’s bed! Hey!” She grabbed the small snake, looked down at it, looked across the room at the other one she’d made the previous day, then smashed it hard on the ground. She pierced its head with a stiletto heel, tossed away the shoe, now covered in clay, and jammed her feet into two mismatched flip-flops before grabbing the completed snake and tiptoeing from her room. The hallway was curiously empty, almost as if it was holding its breath.

Alex pulled a bobby pin from her hair. She poked it into the lock on Magnus’s door and jiggled it around until she heard a click. She poked her head in, scanning around. 

There was a lump on the grassy floor, balled up in blankets.

_ … I should go, _ Alex thought as she tiptoed closer. _ I really should. I mean, he could be reforming from something right now.  _ She poked Magnus with her foot. “Maggie? You in?”

“... No,” came a small voice from the bundle. 

“All right, then. Guess no one will mind if I just leave this clay snake I made in Magnus’s bed, then,” Alex taunted, moving closer to Magnus’s bed. “You know, I might even make this one sentient. Give good old Mango a little surprise next time he goes to take a nap.”

“Go ahead. I don’t even sleep in it half the time.” Magnus’s voice sounded strange, like he had a cold of some kind, which was strange, because Alex swore she’d been assured that enherji didn’t get sick.

Alex sighed. “What’s gotten into you today? Why are you being so whiny?” She flopped down next to the pile of blankets, setting the snake down next to her. The grass tickled her legs. She studied the bundle. His face was entirely concealed in the blanket. All she could see were some strands of overlong golden hair. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“‘M just tired,” he mumbled, burying his face a little closer into the grass. 

“You don’t think you’re sick or something, right?” Alex asked. “You sound terrible.”

“... ‘M not sick,” Magnus sniffled. “I know when I’m sick. I’m not sick.”

Alex caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Jack appeared from under Magnus’s bed. “He’s been crying all day, milady,” Jack tattled. “I tried to cheer him up with a little Taylor Swift number, but when I did, he put me in time-out under his bed.”

Alex snorted. “Can’t imagine why. Also, if you milady me again, you’re going up a frost giant’s nostril sideways. Anyway, Mango, why did you blow the whole day crying alone in your bedroom? I hope it wasn’t because something happened to Blitz or Hearth.”

“No, they… they’re fine. It… it doesn’t involve them. It literally doesn’t involve anyone you’ve ever met. Well, except me, but I don’t count.”

Alex shrugged. “Okay. Well, I can’t make you tell me anything. I mean, as long as you’re not hurting yourself, we’re cool.”

“... Never really been into that,” Magnus murmured. “I tried once. It just made it worse.”

Alex stared at the ceiling. She couldn’t focus in on Magnus right now, couldn’t see the way he was curled up on the ground, looking like a pathetic, abused animal of sorts. She’d had fantasies, sure, Magnus kneeling in submission for her or curled up cutely on the bed, but this just felt  _ wrong.  _ Alex kicked herself for suddenly getting so sappy. “... Do you have scars?” 

“... No. Well, I had one, but it’s not on the new enherji body.”

“... What did it look like?” Alex really didn’t know what to say. Not for the first time, she felt like she was completely winging it when it came to comforting someone. 

“Nothing severe. Just a… a little white line over the back of my wrist. Blitz said it wasn’t even visible.”

Alex let her hand wander to what she assumed was the top of Magnus’s head. “... What did you use to… do it?”

“Some scrap of broken glass I found in a Dumpster shortly after…” his breath hitched, “... after my mother’s death.”

“... Are you…” Alex worried her lip between her teeth. “... You’re not crying, are you?”

“... I’m not crying if you don’t want me to cry,” Magnus murmured, almost automatically. 

“Magnus, I don’t  _ care.  _ If you’re crying, you’re crying. I really don’t care one way or another. I was just asking because I heard your breath start to get fucky,” Alex asked.

He pulled the quilt a little tighter around himself. “... I… maybe a tiny bit. I’ll live. I mean, I don’t have a choice, but you know. I’m not gonna crawl into a little hole and fade out of existence.”

Alex focused even harder on the ceiling, painted a light shade of sky blue. “... That’s good. Hey, I thought you hated the color blue. Why is your ceiling blue?”

“It looks like the sky,” Magnus sniffled. “I don’t mind it so much. And it’s so light it’s almost white, anyway.”

“... Makes some sense,” Alex replied, trying to keep her voice as soft as possible. 

“... Why did you ask?” 

“Just trying to get your mind off of… you know, whatever was upsetting you.”

Magnus was quiet for a long time. So long Alex wondered if he’d somehow just passed out, despite his emotional pains. She almost hoped he had. At least in sleep he could get some relief from whatever was hurting him. 

Finally, he shifted, pulling his knees to his chest. “... Did I ever tell you…” He trailed off.

Alex gently stroked over his blanket-covered head. “Did you ever tell me what?”

“... Can’t talk about…” His voice broke violently. “... I can’t talk about it.”

“You started,” Alex whispered. “You were almost there.”

“No.” The reply was hardly above a whisper. Alex didn’t even know how she had heard it.

“You were  _ so close!  _ Come on, Maggie, don’t tease me like this!” She kept her voice soft but insistent.

“No. No. I can’t fuckin’... dammit!” Magnus’s voice rapidly switched from broken to enraged. He flinched away from her hand. “I can’t fucking do this! You should know how this feels! Stop trying to break into my head!” He growled into his blanket.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I thought maybe… I’m sorry. I won’t pry,” Alex nodded. She carefully put her hand back on Magnus’s head as his growl broke into awful gasping sobs. His body jerked and contorted as he wept. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I swear I won’t pry. I promise. I won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about.”

“... Not… about… that,” he gasped. 

Alex took a deep breath.  _ I fucked up. I  _ really  _ fucked up. I broke this kid. I never should have pried. I never ever should have fucking pried.  _ “... I’m so sorry. Maybe…” she took a deep breath, pulling her hand away, standing up, “... maybe I should go.” 

She wasn’t two steps towards the door when she felt a hand grab hard on her ankle. She looked back. Magnus was cast half-out of his sleeping bag with his fingers wrapped around her ankle. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. His eyes were a miserable shade of fleshy red. His hair was falling in his eyes, sticking to his face and cheeks. He wasn’t looking at her, not really, his eyes were focused at a point maybe one inch beyond her ankle. “Please… please… I need… I just… I’m so… sorry…”

“... I’ll stay,” Alex reassured. She wiggled her ankle. “You can let go of me now.”

Magnus released her ankle. He lay back down, using his arm as a pillow, pulling the quilt back around himself.

Alex knelt. She pushed the quilt away from his face, holding her hands over his cheeks. His skin was smooth but sticky and wet with tears. He still couldn’t meet her eyes, his own seemed to be focused more on her neck area than anything. “Hey, don’t hide from me. I’m not  _ that  _ scary.”

Magnus sniffled. “... But… I…”

Alex blotted the tears off of his cheeks with the hem of her long pink skirt. “No buts. You know I’d never… well… not that I’d  _ never  _ hurt you, but I’m not gonna hurt you when you’re like this. It’s one thing to kick a man when he’s on top of the world, but if you kick a man while he’s curled up sobbing on his bedroom floor, you’re a fucking monster. Get me?”

“... I… think… so,” Magnus managed. His chest jerked as he choked out the words. 

“Good. Now, can you do a few things for me?”

Magnus managed a nod.

“Okay. First thing. Can you look me in the eyes?” 

Magnus raised his eyes, meeting hers. “... O-okay.”

She studied his eyes, noticing the tiny little flecks of gray in the pale blue pools. “Good job. Your mother would be proud.”

Agony flashed in his eyes. His breath hitched, his eyes swam with tears, wet and terrible like open wounds. Alex immediately knew she’d touched a nerve. “What did I say? Was it… Oh.  _ Oh.”  _ She took a deep breath. “... It was… that’s why you’re upset, isn’t it?”

Magnus half-wheezed, hiccuping. He turned away, pulling his face from Alex’s hands. He curled up again, burying his face back in his quilt.

Alex stroked his hair, gently, from the top of his scalp down to his neck. His hair was soft as silk. “... It’s all right,” she soothed. “It’s natural to grieve over a loss of that magnitude. I don’t think any less of you. I mean, I didn’t think that much of you to begin with, but I don’t think any less of you now.”

Magnus leaned his head against her knee. He didn’t say anything, but Alex could hear his message loud and clear.

“... You’re welcome,” she murmured. “Just take a deep breath. We can talk once you’re a little calmer, or we could not talk, depending on how you feel. Just tell me what you need and we’ll get it done. How does that sound?”

“... Nice,” Magnus whispered, his voice cracking. “I’d… I’d like that, I think.”

“All right,” Alex whispered. “We can do that.”

Magnus took a long breath and held it. Alex stroked his hair, rhythmic and gentle, something even for him to hold on to. It was about five caresses before Magnus released the first breath, shakily. Another two of the same and Magnus lifted his head, meeting Alex’s eyes once more. “... I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Will you sit up?”

Magnus slowly wobbled his way into a sitting position, still wrapped in the blanket. “Why did you want me to sit up?”

“Because you look like an injured animal when you’re curled up on the ground like that, and that’s not a look I like to see on people.” Alex poked the tip of Magnus’s nose. “It’s dehumanizing.”

“Come on. I like sleeping on the ground. It reminds me of…” Magnus took another long breath. “... It reminds me of when my… my mother and I used to camp out in places together.”

“Was your mom the one who got you into the outdoorsy stuff?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. When I was little I’d whine about it sometimes, but I always came around when I actually got out there, you know? I mean, she found ways to make it fun. She’d always be pushing me or daring me to do stuff, and I took it, because it made me feel like less of a scrawny asthmatic loser when I was able to do physical stuff.”

Alex chuckled. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

“It was. I don’t know if I just have a rose-tinted view of it now, but times like that were some of the best of my life. I mean, that’s what I think of when I heal people, you know? I literally use these memories to generate healing energy,” Magnus sniffled. 

“... Remembering these things doesn’t hurt you?” Alex asked.

“No. Or… maybe. I don’t know. It’s… very, very bittersweet,” Magnus realized. “Because it’s like… imagine you try something one day. A food or drink. And it’s… it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. And it fills you up in ways you never thought you needed. And then… and then one day you’re told no, no, you can never have this again. Ever. It’s just never gonna be in your life again. And suddenly, you’re empty in ways that you could never realize you could be empty in. You know?”

“I know what grief feels like, Maggie, yes,” Alex replied drily. “But that was an excellent metaphor. You should consider writing stuff.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m literate,” Magnus sniffled. “Anyway, no, it doesn’t hurt me. The only memory I have of her that hurts is… is… is the one of her death.”

“... You had to  _ watch?” _

“No. I would… I would rather have watched than… than what happened.” A shudder traced its way down Magnus’s spine.

“... What happened?”

Magnus took another few deep breaths. He looked down, his shoulders slumping like someone placed a great weight across them. “... I… um… I saw… I was… we were in… I was in my bedroom. She was in the kitchen. I heard crashing and screaming. I ran out because she… she really did sound like she was in pain. When I got out, I… she… she…” His voice cracked and he wiped his eyes. “I don’t… I don’t know if I… if I…”

Alex reached out and took his hand. His hand was pleasantly warm, not  _ too  _ warm, but just warm enough. “If you can’t, that’s okay. I’m here either way. If you try and break down, I’m here. If you try and succeed, I’m here. If you don’t try, I’m here. Look. I know I’m a bitch. I’m highly aware of that. But I’m not so much of an ass that I’m gonna leave you in the lurch when you’re upset about something so large and life-altering. I couldn’t, in my right mind, do that to another human being. 

“So, with that in mind, would you like to try again?”

Magnus took a deep breath, pulling his knees to his chest. “... I’ll… I can try.” He pulled another breath, holding it in until it burned, then releasing it shakily. “... When I got out, she was… our apartment was full of… full of wolves, and one had… one had latched hard onto her… her shoulder, and… I could… I could see the blood running down, dripping between the thing’s teeth and all over the floor. She screamed at me to go, but that made them… made them notice  _ me,  _ and… and one jumped between me and her and… and I remember I was just so fucking hypnotized by its eyes, its bright blue eyes… anyway. I heard something crunch and my mother screamed and I… I just turned and ran. Like a fucking coward. I remember it cornered me on the balcony. And that’s when… that’s when I jumped. Hung onto the balcony. I was scared to fall.

“I don’t know how long I hung there. My arms hurt for weeks. And afterwards I just… I just sat in the alley behind our apartment and I… I cried. I cried and cried and cried. I cried for weeks. I cried until I was too tired and dehydrated and sick to cry any more. It was in that time period when I… I tried to hurt myself for the first time. Hearth and Blitz… they found me after that. They found me bloody and teary, shivering behind a Dumpster, starving and sick. And Blitz, Hearth… they were what I needed at the time. They helped me clean up a little. Made sure I got to eat more than once or twice a week. Made sure I sometimes got to sleep somewhere that wasn’t under a bridge. They were… they were such angels, I… there’s nothing I could do to repay those two. Nothing.

“Absolutely nothing.”

Alex watched the tears make their slow trek over Magnus’s cheek. His eyes were screwed tightly shut. Even after he stopped speaking, his lip still trembled mindlessly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. That… I mean, I can’t imagine…  _ knowing  _ someone was being killed and being so, so powerless to do anything about it. I mean, I’ve seen death before, but that’s… oh, holy Helheim.” Unable to say any more words, she leaned in and brushed tears from his cheeks with her free hand. 

“... Thanks,” he murmured, leaning his face back into his knees and arms. 

Alex took a breath, calming herself before she tried to reassure him. “... How are you feeling now?”

“... Empty,” he whispered. 

“You’re an empty cup.”

“I’m an empty cup.”

There was a pause. Alex rubbed mindless circles on his knuckles. She was suddenly reminded of why she’d tended towards atheism in life. After all, what just and loving deity would allow something so terrible to happen to someone so kind and innocent? 

Anger bubbled in her chest. It wasn’t fair. Magnus was the own son of a god, and not even a crooked, shifty one like Loki. Why couldn’t Frey have done something,  _ anything,  _ to prevent Magnus’s suffering?  _ Wait, hold up. Blitz said that he and Hearth were sent to protect Magnus by…  _ oh.  _ Oh. Frey and Freya. Duh. And I guess I can’t blame him for being a Vanir. Sorry for blaming you, Frey. Never mind. You did your best. We’re cool. _

Alex took a few deep breaths, calming her own turbulence. She could sort her own feelings later. Magnus was the important thing now. “... What set this off?”

“I… I don’t know. I was… I had just got out of the shower. I was looking in the mirror. Jack can attest, he was there--”

“--Okay, holup. You shower with  _ him?” _

“I don’t _shower_ with him, but he’s in the bathroom with me _while_ I shower, just in case some peanut barges in on me with intent to kill while I’m cleaning myself. Anyway, I had just got out of the shower and I was looking in the mirror. And I realized that… that my eyes are… are the exact same color as…”

“... They’re blue. Like the wolves’ eyes,” Alex murmured. 

Magnus squeezed his eyes shut. He nodded.

“... I don’t think they’re the exact same color,” Alex decided. “I think yours are a softer shade. They have little flecks of gray in them, too. Wolves don’t have that. And you… the  _ look  _ in your eyes is soft. Wolves don’t have that. Their eyes are harsh and predatory. Yours, I can assure you, are most definitely  _ not  _ like that.”

Magnus opened his eyes--his beautiful eyes, a blue sky flecked with little gray clouds--and focused in on Alex. “... Really?”

“Really,” Alex reassured.

“But… when I looked in the mirror this morning, I looked… my eyes looked… they were so bright and so… I mean, they looked  _ vicious,  _ Alex.”

Alex studied him. She pulled a compact mirror from her pocket, a little pink heart-shaped thing with rhinestones. She opened it and pointed it at Magnus. “What do you see in this, Maggie?”

Magnus studied it, realizing for the first time how bad he looked, wrapped tightly in his quilt with tears streaked all over his face. “... It’s me. And a little bit of your fingernail.”

“What do your eyes look like right now?” Alex asked, in her gentlest voice.

“... Red.”

“No, how do they look in terms of… terms like  _ soft  _ or  _ vicious?” _

“... Empty,” Magnus whispered. “Depressed. Miserable.”

“Most importantly, do they look like the eyes of someone who could kill an innocent woman for no reason at all aside from who she’d given birth to?”

Magnus looked at his eyes. His blue eyes. “... I hope not.”

“No, Magnus. No. You’re not the type. Don’t worry about it. I mean, the sheer fact that you’re concerned that you _might_ become that type of person is proof enough that you’re never gonna be that way. Now quit your crying. You’re not a monster. You’re not an animal. You’re not a predator. You’re a perfectly normal person. Hell, I’m willing to admit you may be a cut _better_ than a normal person, just because you’re the one who heals us all, even when we don’t deserve it.” Alex laughed, a real laugh. “So stop being an idiot.”

A ghost of a smile wisped its way over Magnus’s lips. “... I’ll do my best.”

“Sounds like a better plan of action than your normal half-assing,” Alex snorted. “Anyway, now that you seem a little calmer, would you like to see this snake I was gonna slip under your pillow?”

Magnus looked up. “... I’d like that.”

Alex grabbed the snake and held it up so Magnus could see it. It wasn’t the best thing Alex had ever churned out. Hell, it was only barely passable as a snake. But Magnus looked at it like it was the best thing he’d ever laid eyes upon. 

“... I like it,” he finally murmured. “May I have it?”

Alex rolled her eyes. “I mean,  _ I  _ don’t want it.” She pushed it at where Magnus’s hands met his quilt. 

Magnus took it. “... Thank you. I… I like it a lot.”

Alex gave something that was halfway between a smile and a smirk. “I’m always grateful for how impressed you get when I do the simplest shit. It’s a real confidence booster.”

“... You’re welcome?” Magnus tried, managing a small smile. “I mean, I should be thanking you. For the snake and for… helping me. I don’t know why you stayed, or why you comforted me, but… thanks.”

Alex huffed. “It doesn’t sit right with me to see someone in a state of clear distress and just do  _ nothing.  _ I dunno. I mean, I just think about… like… what if I turn away, and then they go and… and do something terrible? Something I could have prevented?”

“That’s a wise way to look at it,” Magnus nodded. “Although I doubt I would have done anything that would have made the six o’clock news.”

“Yeah, well, teen suicides don’t make the six o’clock news, Maggie.” Alex shook her head. “Remember what I said about not being an idiot? Just because it’s not a mass tragedy or lurid crime drama doesn’t mean it won’t hurt someone somewhere.”

Magnus studied the grass they sat on. “... No, you’re right. I’m sorry. I just meant that… I wouldn’t have done anything terrible. I’m past that point, I think.”

Alex gave a bitter chuckle. “You have no idea how glad I am about that.”

“... I’m glad you’re happy,” Magnus tried. “And… seriously, thank you. It… it means a lot.”

Alex just shrugged. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. I know you’d return the favor. Anyway… what now? Are you… I mean, do you want to sleep? Or do you want to go do something? Crochet to the death starts in ten minutes.”

“Oh, gods no. I’m not doing that again. One needle stabbed all the way through my hand is enough for one afterlife,” Magnus chuckled. “No, I… I’ll stay here. Try and get some sleep.”

Alex studied him. His eyes were half-closed. His shoulders were slumped, still, but not from sadness as much as tiredness. “Yeah, that sounds smart. Oh, and Jack?”

Jack reappeared from under Magnus’s bed. “Yes, senor?”

“That’s senora to you, you insolent sack of smegma,” Alex shot back. “Anyway, if Magnus starts to cry again, will you come and get me?”

“... Don’t quite know how I’ll manage without hands, but I’ll do my best,” Jack assured.

“Right. Do what you do,” Alex sighed. “Also, Magnus?”

Magnus nodded. 

“Do you want to… you know, get in the bed?”

“... I’m comfy enough on the floor,” Magnus decided. 

“Once again, do what you do.” Alex shook her head. “Anyway, I’ll see you two at dinner?”

“Yeah,” Magnus sighed. “You’ll see me at dinner.”

“You better not skip. I’ll track you down if you skip. I swear to gods, I will.”

Magnus smiled. “I know you will. I’ll be at dinner. Don’t worry.”

Alex leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Magnus’s lips. Her heart broke. He still tasted of tears. “I won’t, Maggie.” She rose, heading towards the door as Magnus curled up on the floor again. “Sleep well.”

All she heard before she left was a soft sound of agreement coming out of a somehow-comfortable looking bundle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't until I was writing this that I really kind of realized how little I really remember from MCGA. Like, I /think/ Magnus's mom died around Thanksgiving time, but... I'm not sure? And I /think/ I remember that Alex had a tattoo of a snake on the back of her neck, but it could have been somewhere else? Or it could have been something I saw in a headcanon/fanfic? 
> 
> I feel like shit for saying this, but there's a lot I just don't remember.


	116. Percabeth, mentioned Solangelo- Some Fight Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth has a nightmare. She winds up on the Big House sofa in sobbing tears, which is where Chiron and Percy find her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of violence, imagined violence.

Percy entered the Big House, can of soda in hand. It was a warmish day, kind of sticky, which was unusual for camp. Percy wondered if Chiron was planning to let in some rain or something. The sky was overcast, which meant that the Apollo kids had been unusually logey. He’d had to carry Kayla back to Cabin 7 after she’d fallen asleep under a tree at the archery range. That had been a little weird. He didn’t even know her that well.

The Big House wasn’t very well air conditioned. He guessed that it was just Chiron being cheap. That old centaur loved to pinch pennies when it came to himself. He’d do anything for his demigods, spend almost any amount of money provided he could get his hands on it, but when it came to himself, he was downright stingy. Percy remembered a story Annabeth had told him about a time when his wheelchair had suffered a broken wheel. He’d left it broken for an entire summer because he didn’t want to spend the money to buy a new one. 

Speaking of Annabeth, he hadn’t seen her all day. Now, at camp, this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it was unusual. They usually ate breakfast together at least. They’d sit on the beach together and cuddle while they ate. It was Percy’s favorite part of the day, and when she hadn’t shown, it had left a funny emptiness in his gut. After half an hour of dealing with the nervous pains in his stomach, he had just decided to go looking for her. Better to seem clingy and obsessive than to neglect her if she was in potential danger. 

He pushed his way into the living room. Chiron was sitting in his wheelchair, tending to someone he couldn’t see from over the back of the couch. He was murmuring to whoever it was, his head bowed, his hands extended to touch on a figure on the couch. “It’s okay. You’re okay now. You’re not hurt. Will you look at me?”

A brittle moan echoed from the figure on the couch. “... I ca… I can’t.”

Percy’s spine crawled. _Oh my gods._ That’s _why she wasn’t at breakfast._ “Annabeth?” he blurted. “What’s happening?” 

“I can’t calm her,” Chiron lamented. “I’ve tried everything. She won’t eat or drink. She won’t even look at me. She’s lucid now, which is good, but she’s terrified and she’s not coming out of the fear. I’ve tried everything I can think of.” He ran his fingertips through her hair, detangling it gently.

Percy ran to her side. She was half-sunk into the couch, looking so tiny Percy feared he could break her between his fingers. Her legs were tangled and held tight to her body. One arm was crossed across her breast. Her other hand gripped one of Chiron’s. Her chest heaved. Percy knelt by the couch, his heart suddenly feeling very empty and hollow. “... Hey,” he murmured. “It’s just me and Chiron here. No one else. You like us, right? We’ve never done wrong by you before, right?”

“... It’s not… I can’t… it hurts…” Annabeth reached for his hand.

Percy took it. He kissed her fingers. “What’s scaring you? What are you seeing?”

“... The Pit.” Her voice was hoarse. “You almost died in my arms.”

Percy was silent. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

“... You two never should have been down there.” Chiron’s voice was rougher than Percy had ever heard it. _“Gods_ don’t survive that trek. It’s not something I’d ever want a demigod to do. It’s just too… horrible.”

Percy glanced at Chiron. His knuckles were white. “... I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “It was… I tried to pull her out. It didn’t work. It was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, I don’t blame you. No sane demigod would go down there willingly.”

“Nico went willingly,” Percy replied. 

“Nico hasn’t ever been quite sane. Not since Bianca left, anyway,” Chiron sighed. “But that’s beside the point. I don’t blame you. I never have. Neither of you deserved that.”

Annabeth squeezed Percy’s hand, so tightly his fingers turned purple. Percy’s heart lifted at the feeling of her grip. It meant she still had some fight left in her. “... It hurt so much, watching you suffer like that,” she whispered. “... Sleeping in Bob’s arms… crying for me…”

“... I’m sorry,” Percy murmured. “If I didn’t do what I did… you would have died. And… look, Annabeth, I’ve wanted to die ever since I learned what it meant. For me, watching you die would be a worse fate than dying in my own right.”

Annabeth sobbed. She pulled away from Chiron and grabbed hold of Percy’s hand with both of her own. “... Don’t you _fucking_ leave me! Don’t you dare! I swear, if you go, I’ll… I’ll…” She gasped hard, staring at nothing, tears running down her cheeks.

Chiron brushed tears off of her cheeks. “Don’t cry, my little girl. You’re safe now. We will keep you safe.”

“What about Percy?” she quavered.

Chiron glanced over at Percy. “... We’ll keep him safe too.” 

“... Good,” she whimpered. “I… I’m no good at keeping him out of danger.”

Percy kissed her cheek. “You do just fine. I mean, after all, I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Annabeth pulled his hand close to her cheek, holding it there. “... Yeah, but… I… I’m sorry. I’m... a... mess. I just… need... you here. I’m sorry.”

Percy pet her hair. “Don’t worry about it. You’re good.”

Annabeth buried her face in his hand. Her tears were cool and slippery against his knuckles, he could feel her breathing rapidly against his wrist. Her hands were shaking harder than Percy had ever seen, but somehow her grip was still so tight that her fingernails bent against his skin. Percy’s stomach churned--how hadn’t she drawn any blood? He wasn’t sure. 

“... Take a deep breath,” Chiron murmured. “You’re starting to hyperventilate. I don’t want you to pass out.”

Percy took a deep breath.

“Not you, son. Annabeth.”

Annabeth didn’t seem to register what Chiron had said. “... I… I… I… ca-an’t… I ca-an’t bre-eathe… I ca-an’t think… I ca-an’t... open… my eyes…”

“Try,” Chiron murmured. “I know some would say you’ve earned a breakdown, but feeling like this will only be more distressing for you. I know you that well. You need to do something to help yourself. No one else can force you to be calm, and frenzy of this level is anathema to one like you.”

Annabeth shook her head. She was shaking all over. “... I… I need…”

“Water? Nectar? What?” Chiron asked. 

She looked at Percy. The look on her face drove a knife through Percy’s heart. Her eyes were glazed over and so bloodshot that Percy could see every little blood vessel in them. Her mouth was half-open, her face was smeared with tears, snot and drool. Percy felt a sudden urge to clean it. “... What do you need? I’ll do anything,” he whispered. 

Annabeth leaned her head into his chest.

 _Oh._ “... Okay,” Percy murmured. He cupped his hand at the back of her head, rubbing his fingers over her scalp. Her tears dripped cool into his shirt, he was almost hyper-aware of every little drop. He felt a sudden cold sensation in his stomach at the realization that they were something he could control. “... Hey, hey,” he mumbled, trying to distract himself. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re safe here. It’s the Big House. You like the Big House, don’t you?”

“... Hurts,” Annabeth croaked.

“I know,” Percy murmured. “It hurts a lot. But we’re safe now. I promise that. And you know that I don’t promise things lightly.”

Annabeth was quiet for a few moments. Percy listened as she hiccuped and sobbed, stroking her hair. He felt her fragility in the subspace of her skin, as easy to rip and tear as little flower petals. His chest throbbed at the thought of her skin splitting under the tips of his fingers. He could almost see the look of pain on her face, emotional giving way to physical, as red blossomed through her golden hair, dripped onto the beige of the sofa. 

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He didn’t even realize they had been closed. “... Wise Girl? You still… here?”

Annabeth nodded into Percy’s warm chest. 

“... Did you hear me when I told you we were safe?” Percy’s whispered words held the powers of life and death, held the ability to pull Annabeth apart by her heartstrings or put her back together bit by shattered bit. 

Annabeth nodded again. “... I’m sorry,” she whispered finally, once she had pulled herself together enough to speak. “I… I just… I had a bad dream and… and…”

“I know how it is,” Percy soothed. “Don’t feel like you have to explain if you can’t.”

“... Bad dreams,” Annabeth whimpered. 

Percy didn’t respond, only kissed her cheek. 

There was a long silence. Percy caressed Annabeth’s cheek, wiping the tears from her face with a gentle thumb. “... Chiron, will you get me a wet washcloth? Her face is all dirty.”

Chiron nodded. He climbed from his wheelchair and trotted off in the direction of the nearest bathroom. 

“See how much Chiron loves you?” Percy murmured. “He was here for you before I was.”

“... I love Chiron,” Annabeth sniffled. “... I… not like I love you. He’s like… he’s like…” She shook her head. 

“A father figure?” 

Annabeth nodded. “... Yeah. I… I love him, I think.”

“I’m flattered.” Chiron had returned. He trotted lightly over to Annabeth’s side, presenting a pink washcloth. “Here. Clean yourself up. You’re safe. You’re in the heart of camp. It’s quite well defended. I doubt you could find a safer place to rest.”

Annabeth nodded. She took a deep breath and held it before she took the washcloth, pulling away from Percy’s hands, from his chest. She buried her face in the fabric, pleasantly cool against her burning face. She held it there for two long breaths. Three. “... I’m sorry,” she finally whispered.

Percy gently twisted a single strand of her hair around his finger. “For what?”

Annabeth hauled herself into a sitting position. She pulled the washcloth away. Her eyes looked painfully red. “... For being such a fuckin’ mess.”

Percy just chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had probably fifteen breakdowns since we’ve got back. Remember the bathtub incident?”

Annabeth managed a small smile. She remembered finding Percy curled up in a tub of water that had gone cold probably an hour before, staring dully at the ceiling. It hadn’t been funny at the time--after all, Percy had been deeply hurt at the time--but later he had kind of turned it into a joke, something along the lines of _figures that would be the first time you saw me naked,_ and she’d kind of figured that if Percy was healed enough to crack jokes that it must be okay. “Yeah, Seaweed Brain. I remember. That was… yeah, you were wrecked that day.”

Chiron’s fatherly brow wrinkled with concern. “If I may ask, what was the bathtub incident?”

“Percy spent like two hours lying in the bathtub at his mom’s place staring at the ceiling and moping. He only came out because I made him.”

Percy climbed up and sat on the couch next to Annabeth, pressing his hip against hers. “It wasn’t as bad as we made it sound before, honestly.”

Chiron nodded. “Well, son, I’m just glad it wasn’t worse. Let me know if it happens at any point while you’re here.”

Percy nodded. “Will do.”

“Anyway, Annabeth, are you a bit more… even now?” The concern in Chiron’s voice was plain to hear.

Annabeth took a deep breath. She leaned into Percy a little bit and Percy wrapped his arms around her, warm and snug. “... Yeah. I’m… I’m a little better. He’s…” Her eyes drifted shut and she leaned more into Percy, “... it’s nice.”

Chiron smiled. “I’m so glad he helps you so much. I think… I think you two are good for each other, quite frankly.”

Percy blushed. He pulled Annabeth all the way into his lap and buried his face in the back of her neck, breathing in the scent of her hair, sweet lemons. “... Thanks, Chiron. Your approval… it means a lot.”

Chiron smiled. “No problem, son. Now, Annabeth, what do you need now? Shall I make you some tea?”

Annabeth shook her head. “... No. I don’t like tea.”

“It’s still too bitter for you, isn’t it?” 

Annabeth could hear the smile in Chiron’s voice, even though her eyes were closed. “Shut up,” she grumbled. “It just tastes like leaf water. I don’t mind bitter things, I just don’t like the taste of leaves.”

Chiron gave a gentle chuckle, almost as if reacting to a child. “Of course. Is there anything I can do save that?”

Annabeth looked up into Chiron’s eyes, her own wide and doelike. “Will you let Percy and I stay here? Just for a little while?”

Chiron sighed, smiling. “Will there ever be a day when you do not push the envelope? You may, but no funny business. If you think being a demigod is hard now, imagine doing it while pregnant.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, I know.” Then her voice changed, became something sweeter, more tantalizing. “Thank you for letting Percy stay.”

A tingly feeling filled Percy’s abdomen. His face warmed. “Yeah.” His voice was shaking somewhat. “Thanks.”

Chiron sighed. “You two will be my end, you know that?”

Annabeth managed a small smile. “Better us than some horrible monster, right?”

“I suppose,” he sighed. “Speaking of couples who will be my end, I must check on the infirmary. Remember, _no_ funny business!”

“Yes, Chiron,” Annabeth sighed, melting back into Percy’s embrace, pressing her face against Percy’s collarbone. 

Chiron pushed himself up and trotted from the room. “Good. I will see you two in only a few moments.”

Percy stroked Annabeth’s hair. “See you later.”

There was a pause. Percy took a deep breath. “... How are you holding up now?”

Annabeth thought. “... Shaky. I’m… I’m cold. Not… not _physically_ , but…”

Percy held her a little tighter. “Emotionally?”

“Mhm,” she nodded. “... I… I think I just need to… to hear that… to hear that you and I are… you know.”

“Together? Safe? Okay?”

Annabeth gave a small nod. “... Yeah.”

“... Well, we’re okay. We’re safe. We’re together. And I’m not just saying that. I wouldn’t say that unless I truly believed that, okay?” Percy rested his chin on her head, grounding himself.

“... Mhm.” Annabeth sighed. “I… I… you’re the best, do you know that?”

Percy gave a small sigh. “... I don’t think you’ve ever told me that, no.”

“Well, you…” Annabeth’s voice was cut off by a yawn, “... you are. For me.”

Percy gave her a small squeeze. Warmth burned in his chest. “... Well… you’re better than the best, because I don’t deserve you at all.”

Annabeth pinched his arm. “Don’t say bad things about yourself. For my sake.”

Percy closed his eyes, taking in the feeling of her body in his arms, tender and soft. “... I’ll do my best. Are you… are you still too cold?”

“... I’m… better,” Annabeth sighed. “But I still… could I still… there’s a blanket behind you, could you…”

Percy chuckled. “Of course.” He pulled the blanket off of the back of the couch. It was made of a weird, scratchy yarn. Secretly, Percy thought she deserved better, but he didn’t know how to bring it up. He wrapped her shoulders in the blanket and cuddled her close.

Annabeth’s little sigh of relief took away all nervousness Percy had about the blanket. “... Thanks,” she murmured. “... Lie down with me?”

Percy blushed. He carefully maneuvered them so they were lying on the sofa, Annabeth lying half on his chest and half off. Her body was warm, a soothing sort of warmth that made Percy want to sleep. “... Is this good?”

“... Mhm,” she grunted, nuzzling Percy’s collarbone. “... Love you.”

Percy couldn’t help but smile. “Love you too, Wise Girl.”


	117. Percabeth-Flushed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy is a Manhattan boy. The high temperatures common to California simply don't work for him at times.
> 
> Basically just ~1000 words of Percabeth fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some thinking about what Annabeth and Percy were actually doing to put themselves through college. This drabble is the result. Annabeth works weekends in a campus call center, Percy trains legionnaires on weekday afternoons (and some weekends). It helps him unwind from classes and schoolwork. I haven't worked out all the details, but I kind of like these ideas.
> 
> Warnings for Annabeth being, like, SUPER thirsty. Also, Percy is shirtless through all of this. There's no smut, though.

When Annabeth comes home, Percy is sprawled on the sofa. 

This isn’t unusual. It’s their shared apartment. Percy can sprawl wherever he wishes. What is unusual, on the other hand, is the flushed, shirtless state in which she finds him. Wetness still shines on his skin. “Percy?”

“Mm?” Percy opens his eyes. “Annabeth! How’d today go?”

“Fine. Classes were uneventful. The call center was quiet, too. Really, nothing happened.” A soft laugh breaks through Annabeth’s lips. “You look winded. How did the kids treat you?”

“Angelic. As usual. They’ve always been perfect. It’s not their fault. It’s the heat’s,” Percy huffs. “Annabeth, I’m _burning.”_ He lolls his head around the arm of the couch, moaning softly.

“Really?” Annabeth raises an eyebrow. Her body tingles, Percy’s gentle groan clearly does something to her. “It’s air-conditioned in here. You’re almost naked. How are you still warm?”

“I dunno. It’s like my body just won’t shed heat.” He groans again. “Fuck, Wise Girl, I’m so gods damned uncomfortable right now.”

Annabeth sighs. She moves closer to Percy, placing her hands on his forehead and the back of his neck. His smell, sweet sea air, is nearly overpowering. His hair is moist from sweat. _He can’t be shedding much heat through his hair, not with how thick it is._

Percy was right. His skin _is_ burning.

“Your hands are cool,” Percy murmurs. “... Feels good.”

Annabeth closes her eyes. Percy is much too beautiful like this, skin flushed and healthy and tanned a sweet shade, and she will lose control if she keeps looking. “... I’m going to get you some water and a cold pack. That should help your little problem.”

Percy smiles, a sweet, tender thing. “Thanks.”

Annabeth pulls away. She fills a cup with water from the fridge filter, puts a straw in it, and pulls a cold pack from the freezer, wrapping it in one of her tee shirts. She returns to Percy’s side. “Lift your head.”

Percy obliges, in the same loving, selfless way he always obliges her, and she slips the pack under his neck. He sighs in relief as a pleasantly cool feeling flows through his body. “... Thank you, Wise Girl. It… it feels wonderful.”

Annabeth runs fingers over his chest, unable to deny herself the pleasure of just _feeling_ him a tiny bit. His sweat rubs off on her fingers, a thin sheen. “Good. You should drink something, though. All this sweat… you’re probably as thirsty as it gets.”

Percy smiles. “... Ah, I’ve been thirstier. But yeah, gimme that water.”

“Say please.”

Percy chuckles. _“Please,_ Wise Girl.”

Annabeth relents, smiling. “Of course, Seaweed Brain.” She touches the tip of the straw to Percy’s lips, which, she suddenly notices, are the same shade of pink as his flushed cheeks. “Drink up. I’ve got you.”

Percy’s tongue laps at the straw, pulling it in. He drinks deeply, big gulps of sating water, like it’s sweet on his tongue. “Thank you so much,” Percy murmured after he’d drained the glass.

A million filthy, filthy thoughts shoot through Annabeth’s head, faster than she can shoo them away. “You’re welcome. Are you a bit cooler now?”

Percy sighs softly. “Yeah. Feels better.”

Annabeth smiles. “Good.” Her fingers trail mindlessly to Percy’s hipbone, needing to touch more of the skin, soft under her hands. “Would you like to take a shower in a moment or two?”

“Mhm,” Percy nods. “... Yeah. I probably… I bet I stink real bad, don’t I?”

“Not as bad as you did after Blackjack knocked you out,” Annabeth laughed. “At least now you don’t have whatever it is a horse steps in all over you. If it’s your own sweat, it’s really not as terrible as you think it is.”

Percy flushes a little deeper, and Annabeth gets the sudden idea that she may have embarrassed him. “... Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem.” Annabeth leans in a bit. “May I…”

“Of course,” Percy murmurs, leaning in her direction. 

Annabeth closes the gap, her lips meeting Percy’s. She licks her tongue over Percy’s lips, into his mouth, over his tongue and his teeth and the silky insides of his cheeks. His saliva only tastes of saliva, all there is to taste in his mouth is a vague bit of water. 

She lingers until Percy struggles away, gasping, breathless. “... Need air… Wise Girl… you’re suffocatin’ me…”

“... Sorry,” she whispers, although she’s really not sorry at all. “You’re cute when you’re wrecked.”

Percy’s pink, kiss-swollen lips curve into a smile. “Am I?”

“You are,” she affirms. “It makes you look healthier, somehow.”

Percy blushes. “... Thanks.” He puts his hands up, running his fingers over her cheeks. “I can’t… I can’t choose a state in which you’re the most beautiful. You’re… you’re _gorgeous,_ like, seriously _gorgeous,_ all the time. I can’t name a state in which you’re not appealing to me. I’ll take you wounded, angry, wrecked, sick, depressed, crippled, whatever. I just… I love you.” He pushes himself up on his elbow, kissing softly on her lips. “I _really_ fucking love you.”

Annabeth’s cheeks flame a deep scarlet. Something prickles in her eyes. “I… I love you too, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy gently wipes her eyes. “Hey, don’t get teary. I’m not going anywhere. There’s no need for you to cry. I’m not lying to you when I say what I love you.” He kisses her again, soft, his lips stilling the trembles in hers. “I won’t leave you like the others did. I swear on the Styx.”

Annabeth throws her arms around him. She cannot help it. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Oh, stop that. You deserve the world.” He returns the hug, running his fingers gently through her hair, those beautiful golden locks he’s loved since the first time he lay eyes on them. 

_“We_ deserve the world,” Annabeth insists. “I don’t want to rule the world if I don’t have you by my side.”

Percy smiles. “I’d be awful at ruling the world.”

Annabeth pulls away, her eyes shining bright with emotion. “I think you’d do just fine. Now go shower. You’re soaking with sweat.” She shows Percy where his sweat soaked on her shirt, wet over her chest.

“Point taken,” Percy sighs. He sits up slowly. “You want to join, or…?”

“Are you sure I won’t run the water too hot for you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Percy says, his typical cocky grin curving at his lips. “So, you coming?”

Annabeth smirks and crosses her arms. She studies his face, a bit less flushed now. “I suppose I will, Seaweed Brain.”


	118. Percabeth-Never Hurt Any Of Us REWRITE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a sequel to 114. Percy started training with Chiron and Annabeth wants to know how it went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So I posted this a while back. A couple people got upset because I'd had Percy call himself a "little retard boy." Anyway, instead of doing the mature thing and changing the wording, I deleted the drabble entirely. I'm reposting it again without the problem word because I do think it has some merit and I'm sorry to the people that were upset over it the first time.
> 
> Warnings for Percy being down on himself.

“... How are you holding up?”

Percy sighed into the warmth of Annabeth’s stomach. They were curled up in the soft sand of the beach. Or more like Percy was curled up. Annabeth was sitting, cradling his head in her lap. “... I dunno.”

“You were training with Chiron today,” Annabeth started tentatively, gently combing her fingers through his hair. “I was wondering… how you were after that.”

“... I don’t know. I’m… he’s smart. And he’s got some really good advice. I just… I…” He gave a huff. 

“Don’t trail off on me,” Annabeth chided. “We’re in trouble now because you’re bottling up shit. Don’t shut me out now.”

“... I feel like…” He gave a small squeak. “... Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Annabeth leaned down, kissing Percy’s cheek. “We’ve been through hell together. I think I can handle seeing you cry.”

Percy took a deep, shaky breath. “... I feel so fucking  _ dangerous,  _ you know? And it’s not like a fun kind of dangerous. It’s an ‘I’m gonna do something terrible one day’ type of dangerous. And I… I don’t wanna do something terrible. I just… I just wanna be normal, you know? I just wanna be a decent guy with a decent life and a happy relationship.” He gasped, hiccuping slightly. “That’s all I want. Is that too much to ask?”

His trembling voice made Annabeth’s heart break. “You’re not dangerous, Percy,” she murmured. “You’re hell on the battlefield, but off, you’re just my Seaweed Brain. Hardly a danger at all.”

“... I don’t want to be hell anywhere,” Percy sniffled. “I just… I mean, I just want to be your Seaweed Brain. Your little idiot boy. Something so harmless you could keep it on a leash. I don’t… I never wanted to be dangerous. I just… I wanted to keep  _ others  _ out of danger, you know? I just… I wanted to keep you safe. I wanted to keep everyone safe. And… now I’m a dangerous piece of shit.” He gasped. “Oh, gods, gods. Sometimes I feel like… sometimes I feel like I should just… leave. Just run off, cut ties with everyone I’ve ever known and loved and go live down there with the fishies or something.” He gestured to the waves lapping gently at the shore. “At least there I wouldn’t be able to hurt anybody.”

“... I don’t want you to go,” Annabeth whispered. “Percy, I love you. Please,  _ please  _ don’t go.” She leaned in, pulling his head up so she could kiss him properly. “... Need you,” she whispered, her breath warm and soft over his lips. “... Need you  _ here…  _ need you with me… by my side…” She kissed a little deeper, licking her tongue over his. “... My Seaweed Brain. My boy.”

Percy looked up into her eyes as she pulled away, his face an odd mix of pain and arousal. “... I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you, Wise Girl. I couldn’t. I’d be in so much pain it would kill me.”

Annabeth brushed her thumb over his lower lip. “I’d rather get injured by accident than left on purpose. You know that about me by now. So don’t you even  _ think  _ about leaving me, understand?”

Percy closed his eyes. “... Annabeth, I… I’ve  _ seen  _ women who’ve been physically hurt by their boyfriends or husbands. It’s… it’s painful for me to even think about it happening to you. I don’t want to bring you any pain. Physical or emotional. But in a situation where…” He blinked hard. His lip trembled slightly under Annabeth’s touch. “... In a situation where I have to choose between physically hurting you and hurting your feelings, I’m gonna hurt your feelings. I couldn’t bear to see injuries on your body that I caused. I’m sorry.” 

“Good thing you’re not hurting me either emotionally  _ or  _ physically,” Annabeth soothed. She kissed him again, enjoying the curve of his lip beneath hers. “So don’t you fucking  _ dare  _ leave me.”

Percy was looking at her when she pulled away. “... I won’t. But Wise Girl, I… I hope you understand why I’m afraid.”

“... I know,” Annabeth whispered. “I know. You don’t want to hurt me or anyone else. That’s extremely noble of you. I’m here to tell you that…” She smiled, impossibly soft, and traced a finger down his cheek. “... you shouldn’t worry. I know you’d never hurt any of your friends. And who are you gonna trust, the bad voices in your head or your girlfriend who knows you better than anyone?”

A tear traced down Percy’s cheek. Annabeth wiped it away with one gentle finger. “... I guess… my girlfriend,” Percy sighed. 

Annabeth kissed his forehead, soft, like a blessing. “Good boy,” she whispered. “Don’t make yourself sad. You’d never hurt any of us, you hear?”

“... I’ll try,” Percy sighed. “But it… it gets heavy sometimes.”

“I know.” She leaned her forehead against his, enjoying the way his hair tickled her cheek. “... I’ll help carry the weight. I swear on the Styx, I’ll share the burden.”

“... Shouldn’t have done that,” Percy murmured. “It’ll just hurt you.”

“Hurts worse to see you hurting and denying it.” She ran her fingers over the lines of his jaw. “I can bear anything if it’s for you. Now rest. We came here to relax, not to make you sad.”

Percy blushed. He pouted. “You brought it up.”

“So I did. I didn’t… granted, I was mostly asking you to see if that was why you were so tired, but I’m glad you were able to get some stuff off your chest.”

Percy closed his eyes. “... Yeah. I’m sleepy. While you don’t think I’m dangerous, can I sleep on your thighs, right here?”

Annabeth ruffled his hair. “Two years as of this August, and you’re still so shy. Go ahead and rest. You’ve earned your peace.”

Percy blushed. His eyes fell closed. “... Thanks, Wise Girl. I’ll… I’ll make it up to you later.”

Annabeth gently ran her fingertips over his forehead, caressing through shaggy dark locks, over slightly-too-pale skin. “... Don’t worry about it.”


	119. Non-shippy-The Pain Of A Fast Transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set very shortly after TOA. Apollo is having difficulties adjusting to his new divinity. In the wake of a nightmare, all the terrible feelings that have been brewing in his chest bubble over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for nightmares, imagined violence, Apollo having doubts of his own abilities. Featuring good guy Hermes and Artemis being an overprotective sister.  
> Assumes nothing absolutely insane happens in TON (assumes Apollo gets his divinity back and that the world doesn't end or anything)

When Apollo wakes, he is alone and he is screaming. 

All he can see is Meg’s terrified face plastered on the inside of his eyelids, her hands, reaching out. _Save me_ is written on her lips, she screams for him, but even in his newly restored divinity, he cannot save her. Nero’s knife falls, a cry of _disobedient girl!_ carved in his cruel mouth, and her head falls as her life flows from her veins, red as the sunrise. Apollo weeps helplessly, but he cannot force himself to move, to reach out and save her, to do something, _anything_ that would be meaningful in any way. 

The knife runs through his throat, pain tears at him, a cruel old friend. Gold spurts from his veins and the dream changes. He stands behind Python in the cave at Delphi and he’s mortal again, knees shaking badly. Wetness dribbles down his thigh. The serpent whirls when he smells urine, his cold eyes settling on his old enemy. His coiled body turns and contorts unnaturally and before Apollo knows it he’s surrounded by the thing, gradually closing in and _he still can’t move._ Python goes for the kill and fangs sink hard into Apollo’s neck, he howls and jerks, waking, screaming, alone in his temple, alone in his agony. His chest just _hurts,_ and he can’t force his breathing to stabilize for long enough to soothe the sting. 

He can’t remember the last time, as a god, that he was so _scared._

He curls in on himself, pressing his face into the pillow. Hot tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He can’t feel them. He can’t feel anything. All he is is the ache that tears at his sternum, burning, as if someone poured boiling water over his breastbone. His throat twitches, his Adam’s apple convulses as his cries tear at him. Shame coils at him, a deep emasculation hurts in his core, he _hates_ the way he cries, sniveling and uncontrolled. There is a poison spreading in his veins, a wet mix of sadness, trauma, pain and anger that rots at his godly soul. 

He needs… something. Someone? He can’t tell. There’s a desperate, hollow, aching emptiness hanging somewhere beneath his diaphragm, it feels like his stomach. He thinks of ambrosia scones, of wine, of bread, of Sally Jackson’s seven layer dip and tofu enchiladas and any number of other things he could put in there to fill the void. In his heart, he knows alcohol won’t solve anything, but oh Fates, does he wish he were wasted. He craves to have the edges of his mind blurred, craves to no longer feel the parts of his soul that were rapidly going rotten and gangrenous. His whole soul feels sour and sick. He doesn’t want to feel anymore. 

He pulls a deep, shaky breath and tries to summon a little bit of light. The light he summons is hardly brighter than a candle and is a pale, sickly color, hardly the brilliant golden warmth of the lord of the sun. 

Apollo suddenly realizes how _not_ divine he feels. The big velvet bed he’d bought for himself feels much too big. His role as _Apollo_ is a shoe that’s much too big to fill, suddenly, he is small and sick and fragile and mortal and very much _Lester_ and very much _not Apollo._ It makes him weep only that much more, the fragile little light he was able to summon snuffs itself and leaves him in total darkness once more.

He’d do anything to be naturally divine once more. 

He’d do anything to _feel_ like a deity again.

He relents and clicks on the lamp on his bedside table. Seeing his bedroom only makes him feel worse. He looks around at the opulence of his bedroom--velvet bedclothes, couches, the velvet canopy of his bed, the grand piano he’d demanded be in his room for some reason. Past Apollo had dressed it up fit for a god.

Present Apollo’s chest stings at the sight.

He rolls out of bed, focusing in on the floor, seeing those disgustingly opulent oriental rugs he’d insisted be there. His stomach twists. He spares one last look back at his sheets, hoping and praying that the liquid he felt on his thighs in his sleep was _only_ a nightmare. Fortunately, the sheets look clean. He tiptoes across his floor, his footsteps suddenly sounding much, _much_ too loud to his ears. _Right, of course! I wanted this place to be acoustically perfect. Of-fucking-course I did. That’s why you can hear a pin drop._

He tugs on the hem of his oversized tee shirt. He can’t remember quite why he decided to sleep in that. It just feels more right, now, to have battered cotton wrapping his chest as he sleeps, rather than the silk and velvet of his sheets. 

He tiptoes out of his temple. The magnificent castle he’d had commissioned right after the Battle of Manhattan. Looking up, silvery moonlight falls across his cheeks, cool and safe. _Sister?_

His fragile little prayer is answered with a sharp huff and a _What do you want?_

 _… I can’t sleep._ A cool tear drips off his cheek. He kneels on the cold marble path, his legs suddenly feeling too shaky to stand. 

_And how am I supposed to remedy that, foolish little brother of mine?_

Apollo hiccups. A cold sets into his skin and he trembles like a mouse, something tiny and fragile. _… I don’t know, Art, I just… I wish… I don’t know. I’ll stop._

 _Don’t do anything stupid,_ Artemis scolds. _I can tell that you’re upset. You’re stupid when you’re upset. I’d watch you myself, but I haven’t the time. Please endeavor to find yourself some company. Preferably company you don’t wish to romance. Preferably company who isn’t Hermes or Dionysus._

Apollo slumps his shoulders. _That leaves no one. The Muses need their sleep--creative energy needs rest to sustain. You would know that if you had ever attempted a creative endeavor. Besides them, I really don’t have anyone else that you haven’t forbidden._

 _I will hold off on punishing you for that comment until your mood improves. I wish not for a new plague._ Artemis’s tone is sharp as broken glass. _Because I love you quite a good bit, I will rescind my statement about not going to Hermes or Dionysus. But if I hear that they found you passed out in a bush somewhere in the Midwest or arrested somewhere in Central America, I am_ not _coming to your aid._

Apollo feels as if his chest is being pulled apart. _I do not expect you to, dearest sister._

When Artemis’s voice next rings out, it is much softer than before. _Good. Good night, dearest little one._

She breaks the connection. He figures she would not bother to wait for him to reply. With her, conversations tend to be over when she says they are. It’s an old habit left over from being one out of only two of his children that Zeus truly likes. 

But then again, everyone loves Artemis. She always knows just what to say to make people like her, and despite all his poetic eloquence, Apollo just… can’t quite do that. He never could. 

It only serves to make him feel more useless. 

A lightly teasing voice jolts him out of his miserable haze. “Good evening, brother. You’re looking a little… small.”

Apollo looks up. Hermes leans against a nearby tree, decked up in day clothes and his normal gear--winged sandals, winged cap (which, for some reason, he’s disguised as a baseball cap), caduceus (which he’s spinning around lightly, trying to keep the heads of the snakes away from Apollo, something he greatly appreciates). “... Um.” Apollo’s tongue feels like wet sand, heavy and still in his mouth. “Feels… right.”

Hermes moves closer, leaving his caduceus leaning against the tree. He sits down in front of Apollo on the cold marble path. “Right, huh?”

Apollo nods. He looks down at himself, his arms small and skinny, his chest bony, his skin washed out and pale. He looks worse than he had when he was Lester. “... Yes.”

Hermes studies him. “... You look a bit ill. Do you feel ill?”

Apollo stares at Hermes’s chest, covered by a zipped sweater. He watches as the zipper rocks back and forth with the ever-fidgety Hermes’s constant movement. “... Chest hurts,” he manages. 

Hermes’s eyes widen. “That could be serious, Polly. You should have come to me immediately. Shall I run for Asclepius?”

“... It doesn’t… it doesn’t hurt like that,” Apollo murmured. “It’s.. it is… I am… oh…” He whimpers, a couple more cool drops slipping over his cheeks. 

A warm hand reaches out and brushes the tears off of his cheeks. “Hey, hey, no need to weep. You’re okay now.”

Apollo leans into the touch. “... I do not feel okay.”

Hermes gently pushes the hair off of Apollo’s tear-soaked cheeks. “You’ve got a touch of what the mortals call trauma. It makes you feel sick and sad. Do you ever have nightmares?”

Apollo’s breath hitches despite himself, his entire body feels so _cold_ and he can’t remember the last time he _ached_ like this, his heart feels like an open sore, every thought, every touch, every word only serves to aggravate the pain. “... Yes… often.”

“That’s a part of it,” Hermes whispers. 

“And… and I feel like… I feel as if… I do not… I am… divine, again, but I do not _feel_ divine, brother, do you understand?”

Hermes hums. “Not exactly, but I have heard words such as those before. Again, that’s shock and trauma. Do not fear. You are not permanently broken, nor are you alone.”

“... Will this…” A helpless sob breaks from Apollo’s lips, “... ever go away? Will I… will I ever heal? Will I ever be okay again? Please, Hermes, I must… I must… I _need_ to be okay! I’m a _god!_ I can’t be… I can’t be all screwed up in the head!”

“I mean, our father married one of his sisters and molested another one and _he’s_ still king of Olympus. I think you’ll do all right even if there is a bit of a hole in your heart,” Hermes soothes. “You _will_ be okay, my Apollo. I have seen mortals heal from things that would make what you went through seem like a cakewalk, and they have less than a hundred years to live. You have eternity. You _will_ recover. Even if it takes a thousand years or more.” He reaches out and caresses Apollo’s hair, it is overlong and almost-white and looks like cornsilk.

A hiccup breaks from Apollo’s lips. “... A th-thousand y-years?”

“Probably less,” Hermes whispers. “Almost definitely less. But I promise you, for as long as it takes for you to heal, I will stay by your side.” He moves one of his hands down to take Apollo’s. “And that’s a promise.”

Apollo looks up at Hermes, longing to lean his head against Hermes’s chest, longing to feel a proper cuddle. Yes, Artemis gave him a hug, and he gave Dionysus a little cuddle while helping him with his now ever-present alcohol withdrawal earlier in the day, but he wants something different. He wants someone to comfort _him,_ some kind person to say _hey, are you okay, can I help you, can I give you a hug, is there anything I can do._ “... Thank you, Hermes. I… I’ll repay you somehow, I promise.”

Hermes leans in and pecks him on the nose. “Don’t worry about that. You’ve done enough for me in the past. We’re family, Polly. Family members do these things for each other.”

Apollo’s lip trembles. He tries to focus even further on Hermes’s zipper, but his vision sinks into hazy water and sobs rise anew from the sickening something in his stomach. He hangs his head, making a lone, pathetic attempt to keep his masculinity intact before his brother. “... I… I… Hermes, I…”

“Yes, dearest one?”

The last, sad shred of his strong facade shatters at Hermes’s gentle voice. He looks up. Tears stream hotly over his skin, sapping at the last shreds of his strength, burning in his sore eyes. “... Please, H-Hermes, my brother, I… I need… I need somebody, I…”

“I’m here,” Hermes replied. “I’m here. What can… what can I do for you? How can I help you?”

Apollo sniffles. “... I need… I need…” He whimpers and lunges for Hermes, grabbing hold of him, pressing his face into his shoulder. Hot tears pour into Hermes’s coat, a warm rain.

Hermes very carefully wraps his arms around Apollo, pulling him close, cupping his palm against the back of his silky head and pressing Apollo’s side against his stomach. “Ohhhh, ‘Pollo. Ohhh, my little one.”

Apollo’s chest can’t stop heaving long enough for him to form a complete sentence. He wheezes and his chest jerks and he coughs and coughs and _coughs,_ as if his body wants to reject the pain in his soul, wants to vomit up the rot that fills his heart. His drool drips down his lips and seeps into Hermes’s sweater, bitter in a way he can’t explain. 

“... It’s okay,” Hermes whispers. “You _will_ be okay. It hurts now. I know it does. It hurts so, so much. You can… it’s okay. Cry as much as you desire, little one. I’ve got you.”

Apollo balls his fists in Hermes’s sweater, the polyester fabric feeling like a lifeline beneath his fingers, something to connect him to reality. “H-h… Her… Herm…”

“Yes,” Hermes murmurs. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Apollo gasps. “... Meg. Where’s…?”

“She’s at camp. She’s safe. She’s very safe. I promise, she is protected,” Hermes assures, running his fingers through Apollo’s silky hair. “Your Meg will be okay. Do not weep for her, brother, she is fine.”

“... In my… i-in my… in my dre-eam… sh-she di-ied… and h-her blood was… h-her bloo-ood wa-as every-where…” _… and her little dying body is still emblazoned on the back of my eyelids and I can still see her blood running all over the place and I can still see Nero’s grin as he mercilessly slaughtered this poor little girl that he said he loved…_

Hermes draws a breath. “... That’s terrible. It’s also not real, Polly. Chiron is keeping her safe. I promise she is safe.”

Apollo’s chest heaves. “But… but wha-at if…?”

Hermes shushes him with one gentle touch to the lips. “Ah ah ah. No buts. Can you change the future?”

Apollo sniffles. “... I’m the god of--”

“--Prophecy, I know. But can you change the future?”

“... No.”

“Right. No. Only the Fates can do that. So why fear?” Hermes queries. “If nothing is changeable, then why spend all your days fearing for your little Meg? Especially when she’s in the best place she’s ever been in?”

Apollo sniffles, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “... I don’t know. I’m just… I’m scared.”

“Because she means a lot to you. And you love her. And she loves you,” Hermes reassures. “Do not fear, brother. The Triumvirate is gone. They cannot hurt either of you.”

Apollo takes a deep breath. His chest still stings, a hollow ache. “They… they cannot hurt… they cannot hurt either of us…” His eyes fall on George and Martha and his stomach squishes again, the other half of his nightmare screaming back into his mind.

“You tensed,” Hermes murmurs. “What for?”

“What about… what about…” A shudder racks his frame and he points to the snakes, wrapped placidly about Hermes’s caduceus. 

“What… oh. Oh. Do not fear, brother. You slew him. Twice. You are very strong.” Hermes’s voice rings tender in Apollo’s ears. 

“... I don’t… _feel_ strong,” Apollo whispers.

“But you are,” Hermes insists. “You are _immensely_ strong. You’ve been through more trials, more pain, more _agony_ than any of us, and you’re still here. You didn’t haul off to Delos and fade into oblivion in a hole somewhere, which is what I would have wound up doing if roles were reversed. You are _not_ weak. Even as a mere mortal, you were not weak. As a god, your strength is downright fearsome.”

Apollo sniffles. “If I am not weak, then… then why couldn’t I save them?”

“Elaborate, please,” Hermes murmurs. 

“Everyone. Jason. Crest. Heloise the griffin. Dakota. All the other… all the other Roman dead. All the nymphs who died. Just… _all_ of them… all my fault…”

Hermes squeezes Apollo, trying to pour as much comfort as he can into the clutch. “... What is the first rule of mortals?”

“... Th-that they… they all die?”

“They all die,” Hermes affirmed. “And it isn’t anyone’s fault but the hand that slew them. And if you’re aching over a mere _nymph,_ then you really _have_ gone a bit looney, brother.”

Apollo sniffles. He shifts a bit, pressing closer into Hermes’s chest. “... Perhaps, but…”

“But it hurts to see a living thing die, mortal, nymph or otherwise?”

Apollo nods. “... Mhm.”

Hermes rests his chin on Apollo’s head. “That is understandable. I’ve been directing souls for millennia and it still hurts at times. Especially when… especially when they wish to live.”

Apollo sniffles. “... Especially when they wish to live.”

They fall into silence. Apollo sobs softly, his tears soak Hermes’s collarbone. His breath comes in hitches and hiccups, his body jerks against Hermes’s arms. Hermes feels every inch. He curls his legs, trying to surround Apollo in warmth, in comfort, something, _anything_ to soothe the pain. 

He looks to the sky. The stars are spread out like a blanket above them, the moon shines a perfect circle. He wonders if Artemis can see them. _Does she know of her brother’s agonies? Does she know of how he weeps? Is she truly that disinterested? Or is she just so busy that she cannot spare time to wipe his tears?_

_Artemis, will you spare time for him?_

Hermes presses a soft kiss against Apollo’s hair. Apollo’s breath hitches and Hermes pats his back. “Shh, brother, peace.”

“... Peace,” Apollo whispers, his voice tremulous. “... I want to be at peace.”

Hermes cannot help it. He raises Apollo’s head with one gentle finger beneath the chin and kisses his forehead, achingly tender. “... Perhaps we should get you inside.”

His breath tickles against Apollo’s forehead as he pulls away. Apollo sniffles again. “... I don’t want to go back to my place. It feels… it feels too…”

“Opulent? Divine? Stifling?”

Apollo nods.

Hermes chuckles softly despite himself. “Would you like to return to my place? I don’t do opulence, not really.”

Apollo nods again. He has no energy, nothing to force him to speak or even open his eyes. 

“Of course, brother. Shall I carry you? You seem shaky and tired.”

Apollo looks up. Hermes is smiling softly, softer than Apollo has ever seen him smile. He looks very tender, very… _human_ like this, as if all the good qualities of mortal and divine were wrapped into one package. “... Please,” Apollo croaks. “I… I ache, brother.”

Hermes nods, kissing his forehead once again. He scoops Apollo into his arms, cradling him against his chest. “... Remember when you told me I felt like a bird when you carried me?”

Apollo nods against Hermes’s shoulder. 

“Well, you’re like a little hay-bundle,” Hermes jokes. “Covered in cloth and weighs nothing.”

“... Would you rather I be nude?” Apollo grumbles. His throat hurts when he tries to speak.

“No, brother. I wouldn’t ‘rather’ anything. Now, are you okay to be flown?”

Apollo nods again. “... Could you fly me to somewhere with water, please?”

“Wouldn’t you rather have nectar?” Hermes queries. “Does water not hurt your stomach?”

Apollo focuses on the light jostle of Hermes’s body as he walks. “... Nectar, I suppose. I just…”

“You don’t feel immortal? You don’t feel deserving?”

Apollo shakes his head. “No. I don’t.”

Hermes is silent for a few beats. Apollo can feel him taking off, something much gentler than his normal take-offs. It takes Apollo a few moments to realize it’s for him. 

When Hermes speaks again, his tone is soft and fragile. “I think you’re deserving, brother.”

  
  
  


It isn’t long before Apollo feels the sensation of descent, then something soft cradles him. He opens his eyes. He is lying in Hermes’s bed, or more accurately on his mattress. The blankets are balled up like usual, half on the bed and half on the floor. A chill sinks into his skin, but he hasn’t the energy to untangle the blankets. He curls up on his side, pulling his legs to his chest.

Hermes had flitted across the room to fill a cup with nectar. Apollo can faintly see the outline of a large vivarium of sorts at the other end of the room. Something moves inside. Apollo doesn’t want to think about what it is. 

Something cold and metallic touches against Apollo’s lip. For a moment he thinks it’s a surgical tool, but when he explores it with his tongue, he can feel that it’s a straw. “... Whu?”

“It’s a metal straw. I stole it out of some weird hippie store out in California.” There’s a tinge of pride in Hermes’s voice, Apollo can hear it.

“Don’ steal,” Apollo croaks, but he drinks anyway. A painfully sweet taste fills his mouth. More tears sting at his burning eyes. The nectar feels good in his throat, on his lips, in his stomach, it’s so wonderful it aches. Apollo cannot help but weep. 

He doesn’t deserve this.

“Pray tell, brother, why are the tears coming now?” Hermes’s thumb traces over Apollo’s cheek. “Is it solely from lack of touch? Are the nightmares coming back?”

Apollo shakes his head, taking Hermes’s hand, clutching it tight. “I… Hermes, I’m _scared,_ I don’t… I don’t feel godly anymore and it… it _hurts_ and it _scares_ me and it… I… oh…”

Hermes strokes over Apollo’s cheek, through his hair. “Do not fear. It hasn’t been too long since your godhood was restored. You’re just having the pains associated with a fast transition. It will feel more natural with time. After all, you always healed before, remember?”

Apollo sniffles. “... But… the last times weren’t so…”

“Traumatic?” 

Apollo nods.

Hermes kisses his cheek, lingering for a moment, not quite able to pull away so soon, longing to bring Apollo any measure of peace. The dull, half-teary expression on Apollo’s face is just too agonizing to stand. He puts aside his winged cap and shoes, then does the same with his sweater. “May I hold you?”

Apollo nods again. 

Hermes crawls in beside him, holding him close. “... Apologies, brother. I’m just… a bit lost for words on how to comfort you. Because… I do think you’ll be okay, but I’m unsure of how to communicate it so it reaches your heart.”

Apollo presses his forehead against Hermes’s chest, feeling the warmth through his thin shirt. To his relief, Hermes pulls the blankets around them, cocooning him in heat. Hermes’s blanket is soft, but not in the way that Apollo’s velvety sheets are. It’s warm and very human. “... I know what you think, brother, it’s just… it’s a little hard to feel okay when I wake up… broken.”

Hermes doesn't respond, only kisses Apollo’s head. His hair is silky against his lips. “I know, dear brother. Please just tell me what I can do for you.”

Apollo nuzzles Hermes’s chest. “... Just keep holding me, please.”

Hermes gave Apollo a little squeeze. “... Of course, Polly.”

  
  
  


It’s only another moment before Apollo falls into a heavy sleep, a testament to his exhaustion. His chest presses gently against Hermes’s, a soft wave with every breath. Despite his knowledge that Apollo has already sunk into the numbness of his rest, Hermes cannot bring himself to pull away. 

It isn’t the first time he’s seen Apollo cry. Apollo cries all the time. But this is different, somehow. Sad Apollo and traumatized Apollo are two different animals. Sad Apollo can be comforted with sweet words and physical pleasure. Traumatized Apollo isn’t that lucky, and Hermes knows it, but at the same time, he is powerless to do anything else.

A knock echoes at the door. Hermes presses a kiss into Apollo’s sleeping forehead before crossing the room and opening the door. Artemis stands on the other side, her dark hair twisted into crown braids, her eyes sharp and silver as the moon.

“Art,” Hermes greets. 

Artemis huffs. “Where is Apollo?”

“He is with me. Why?”

“You prayed for me to help him. He was upset when he prayed to me earlier. What is happening? Show him to me!” Artemis’s eyes flash like knives. Hermes wants to jump away.

“Okay, okay. Come with me. He is resting.” Hermes beckons her inside. 

Artemis practically shoves him aside. She rushes into the back bedroom of the temple. She is wound tight as a coiled spring, her muscles tight as if ready to jump at the first sign of a threat. Her body relaxes when her eyes fall on Apollo’s sleeping form. She moves to sit on the edge of the bed, pushing hair out of Apollo’s face. 

Her eyes widen. “... He’s so…”

“Small?” Hermes suggests.

“... Tiny,” Artemis whispers. “Hermes, he hasn’t been like this since Hyacinthus.”

“This is worse than that,” Hermes whispered. “Art, he told me he didn’t even feel like a deity anymore.”

Artemis closes her eyes. She reaches down and pulls Apollo’s hands from the pleasantly warm cocoon of Hermes’s fleece blanket, holding them gently in her own. Her thumbs rub mindlessly over his knuckles. 

Hermes watches. He realizes suddenly the extent of their connection, that it is something he will never understand. There will never be another child of Maia. No one will know Hermes’s pain from only the touch of his hands. Hermes will never experience what the twins feel with each other, never experience that calm connection and love.

It will simply never happen.

Finally, Artemis opens her eyes. She presses one kiss against Apollo’s knuckles and carefully lays his hands back against the mattress, tucking the blankets back around his shoulders. She turns back to Hermes, an expression of crushing pain in her silvery eyes.

They look at each other for a very long time. Hermes wishes to comfort her, but there’s a gap between them the size of the Atlantic and he doesn’t know how to bridge it. Finally, Artemis raises off the bed and crosses the room, as if in a daze. “... May I see your snakes?”

“Of course,” Hermes murmurs. “Whatever you wish. Would you like to see George or Martha or both?”

Artemis doesn’t respond to that, which proves the amount of pain she’s in. Normally she’d be yelling that she doesn’t need the chivalry. “... Martha.”

“Figures you’d want the girl,” Hermes chuckles. It’s a desperate attempt to lighten the mood, but Artemis doesn’t laugh. He opens the top of the vivarium. 

George stirs lazily. _… Rat?_

“Tomorrow,” Hermes promises. He grabs Martha by her midsection and pulls her from the vivarium. 

Martha squirms against his chest. _… Morning?_

“Not yet. My sister wishes to see you.” He turns her head so she faces Artemis.

Artemis extends her hand. Martha slithers over her arm, cuddling up to her chest. Artemis clutches her gently, bowing her head. Hermes hears the cadence of her breathing change, become more shaky. 

“... What can I do?” Hermes asks.

Artemis shakes her head. She doesn’t speak for the longest time. “... Why _him?_ I know Father… I know Father wished for him to be punished, but… why _that?_ And why _him?_ What did he do wrong?” A hiccup breaks from her throat. “What did he do to deserve this?”

Hermes is struck by the similarities in the ways the twins cry, little hiccups and hitches, heads downcast, faces hidden. “Ask our father, Art. I really don’t know. I suppose…” He draws a breath. “I suppose all we can do now is be there for him.”

Artemis only nods. She pushes Martha back towards Hermes and walks back to Apollo, gently pulling his head into her lap, stroking his head, over his neck. Hermes gently returns Martha to the vivarium and follows Artemis back to Apollo’s side. He sits beside her, leaving a foot between them, despite his desire to comfort her. “Sister?”

“What?”

“May I hug you?”

Artemis looks at Hermes, her silvery irises sinking into a dull gray. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re my sister. And you’re suffering. And I don’t want that for you.”

Artemis closes her eyes. “... I… I don’t need a man to make me feel better. I’m fine.” She waves her hand before bringing it up to wipe her eyes.

“... Not even if that man is your brother?”

Artemis gives a swift nod. She leans over Apollo, closing her eyes. Silvery tears fall on Apollo’s cheek and neck like drops of moonlight and oh, how Hermes wants to brush them away! All he wants is to comfort Artemis, brush his fingers over her cheeks, feel her tears falling in the curve of his shoulder. But she will not allow that, he knows that much, and he cannot force it upon her. He has seen the heartbreak that pushing one’s desires above that of all others can bring. He pulls away slightly and lets his hand rest on Apollo’s hip, closing his eyes.

For a long time, the only sound in the room is Artemis’s soft sobs.

Finally, Artemis composes herself enough to wipe her eyes. “... May I lay beside him?”

“Of course you may,” Hermes whispers. “I was holding him before you came in. I’m sure he’d appreciate it if you held him too.”

Artemis nods. She curls against Apollo, her chest pressed flush against his back. She buries her face in Apollo’s hair. “... My twin,” she whispers, her voice breaking from repressed emotion. “My little twin. My Apollo. Oh, my little twin. Oh, why must you suffer so? Why must… Why? Why did no one tell me how bad you were? Why was I not allowed to help?” She looked up at Hermes. “Why?”

Hermes shakes his head, struck by how _wrecked_ she looks, her eyes bloodshot, mercurial tears streaming over her cheeks, dotting the cloth of Hermes’s pillow. “I do not know, my sister.” 

He feels a touch on his knuckle. Artemis reaches for his hand and Hermes obliges, holding hers. Her fingers are rough and cool, toughened from thousands of years of bow-hunting. Her grip is crushing. Despite her hold, he gets the idea that she is only barely cognizant of him. “... Polly… please, my little twin…”

“Shh, shh,” Hermes soothes. “Polly is fine. Your little twin is fine. My big brother is fine. Polly is safe now.” He gives her hand a gentle squeeze. “And we can repair his mental damage. We have all eternity. He _will_ recover. I promise. He will.”

She scowls at him, fiercely, her eyes shining like razor blades. “Why should I believe you, oh god of liars, god of thieves?” 

“Because. He’s always recovered before. He’s been through many trials, suffered many heartbreaks. Besides, he has only been a deity for what, a few months now?”

Artemis nods. “... One or two, I suppose.”

“Exactly. He’s just suffering a rough transition. I’m sure our cocky, gloating, haiku-spewing, Grindr-account-having, loudly-singing, obnoxious Apollo will be back in no time.” Hermes takes a deep breath. “Look, Art, I’m worried too. But I… I need to hope. I _really_ need to hope.”

“... Oh, Fates, I hope you’re right,” Artemis sniffles. She buries her face back in Apollo’s hair, inhaling his scent, sweet orange peels. “For everyone’s sake, I hope you’re right.”

 _I hope I’m right too._ “I know I’m right,” Hermes insists. “I know.”

Artemis closes her eyes, letting go of Hermes’s hand and holding Apollo-- _but this thing is only barely Apollo, it is too small, too thin, too bony, only a shard of the divinity he had been--_ as gently as she can despite how much she hurts, oh, Fates, she only wants to cling to him. “I love you,” she whispers. “My little baby twin. I’m so sorry.”

Hermes draws the blanket around the twins, tucking it about their shoulders. He puts a kiss on Apollo’s cheek and gives Artemis a gentle pat on her blanket-covered form. “I’m sorry too, my siblings, my friends. I love you both. I will give you both all the protection I can.”

Artemis raises her head. “You are the most slender and birdlike of gods, my brother. You could not face Father at his full might, much less Kronos or Ouranos or Gaia or any other of our foul grandfather’s siblings.”

Hermes’s spine tingles. He blinks back the image of Luke Castellan--his most dear, unfortunate son!--and finds it within himself to form a cocky response for Artemis. “Father at his full might _slew_ Kronos the first time,” Hermes reminds. “I worry not over Kronos. He is scattered into a million tiny pieces, Perseus Jackson slew him. As for Gaia, she was slain by our nephew’s hand, remember? And Ouranos has not been heard from for millennia.”

Artemis seems to relax slightly at Hermes’s soothing words. “... I do remember that,” Artemis murmured. “These past few years have seen many heroes.” Then a sob breaks from her lips and she kisses Apollo’s shoulder. “Apollo is among them, but at what cost? His sanity? His mind? His heart? His music? His poems? His bravado? What of him remains? Fates, _Fates,_ what of him shall remain?” 

“... All of him shall remain,” Hermes insists through a clenched jaw. “We shall save him. Salvage all his little pieces. He _shall_ remain.” Hermes’s voice breaks. His voice crescendoes into a shout. “By the Fates, _Apollo shall remain!”_

“Hush!” Artemis’s scolding voice comes sharp. She has pushed herself up on her elbow, leaning over Apollo. “He’s waking!”

Apollo sniffles. He lifts his head, looking at Hermes, then over to Artemis. “... Art?”

“Polly.” Artemis gently strokes his cheek. “My brother. My little one. How are you?”

“... Feel… small,” Apollo sniffles. “... Tiny.”

“Not divine?”

Apollo scans her face, seeing the nervousness written in its lines, something so familiar to him. Tears well in his eyes. He shakes his head.

Artemis touches her forehead to his. “You _are_ divine, my brother. You are as divine as I am, as divine as Hermes, as divine as Zeus and Hera and Leto and all the others. You are _wonderfully, beautifully divine.”_ Her voice breaks with emotion, her tears fall like rain on his cheeks. “Can you not feel it throbbing in your veins, beating against the walls of your chest?” She traced a finger down his chest. “All that beautiful, beautiful divinity?”

Tears pour down Apollo’s cheeks, clear. Artemis’s heart breaks. His tears, as long as she’s known him, have been drops of shining gold. “... Y-yes, my sister, but… I do not feel powerful, I do not feel… I feel _weak,_ Art, and it… it scares me…”

“Your emotions are not reflecting your reality, Polly,” Artemis whispers. “Change your shape for me, please?”

“To what?”

“To Apollo. Divine Apollo. Bronze skin and hair of gold. Freckles like a thousand stars. Do you not remember, Polly? We’ve always had the same freckles.” She touches her cheek, then Apollo’s. 

“... An eight-pack?” Apollo gives a small, hopeful grin.

“To die for,” Artemis admits. “All the young women loved it. It was always quite the job to tell them how catastrophic loving a god can be.”

“What about the young men?”

Artemis kisses his nose. “There’s my Polly. No, I never cared for them. Anyway, do you know what form I speak of?”

Apollo closes his eyes. “... I believe so. My… my favorite form. Or one of them, anyway.”

“Yes! Can you… can you transform for me? Please? Apollo, you _must_ change your shape! You cannot feel divine when you look this sick and small!”

Apollo closes his eyes. “... Ugh. Move away from me, please? I cannot transform with you inches from my face.”

Artemis moves away. A thin light fills the room and Apollo sits again in Hermes’s bed, looking healthy and fully grown once more. 

A laugh breaks from Hermes’s lips. He throws his arms around Apollo. _“There’s_ my brother!”

Artemis clings to Apollo and weeps, her face pressed to his back.

Apollo sits numbly in the midst of it all. His mind is not spinning as badly as it used to, but the agonizing cocktail of grief and fear still mixes in his heart and the warmth of his siblings’ bodies does not quite reach deep enough to assuage it. He studies himself--restored, beautiful, _whole--_ and thinks of all the others who will never attain it, so many he could have saved, so many he _should_ have saved. His heart is sore and shattered.

He puts his arms back around Hermes and lets himself cry.

  
  


It’s almost sunrise before any of them can calm down.

Artemis stirs first, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “... I must… I must go. Pull in the chariot. Apollo, will you be able to raise the sun?”

Apollo slowly pulls from Hermes, pulls from the warmth of his siblings’ bodies, pulls from safety, meets the waking world. “... I must, sister. I cannot… I cannot risk Father’s wrath any further.”

“Of course,” Artemis murmurs. “I will… I suspect that this is a day when the mortals will see the moon in the sky, my little twin.”

Apollo smiles back at her. “I would like it to be that kind of day as well, my twin.”

“You’re going to keep an eye on him?” Hermes queries.

“Yes. I will. He is my brother.” Artemis draws up straight. “I will keep him safe.”

“Good.” Hermes nods. “Apollo, please remember, you can always come to me, okay? I’ll always make time to help a friend.”

“How are you so selfless?” Apollo blurts. “Brother, I do not deserve this kindness.”

Hermes shrugs. “I spend a lot of time anywhere but here. I see the most selfless and the most selfish things in equal numbers. I see crimes committed, souls judged. I just… if my soul is ever put on the scales, what will they see? I’d rather they see kind things than terrible things.”

“Weren’t you implicated in the Kennedy assassination?” Artemis butts in.

“That’s beside the point. Anyway, do not fret, my brother. I’m here for you.” 

Apollo studies Hermes’s face, looking for any level of untruth. To his surprise, he looks as sincere as he ever is. “... Thank you, Hermes,” he murmurs humbly. “I will repay you this kindness, I promise.”

Hermes smiles. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. Now, you two _really_ have to go raise the sun. Father will rage if you two fall out of time.”

Apollo nods. “Of course, brother.” He rises off the bed. “I must dress. I will see you both again soon, I promise.”

Artemis follows Apollo to the door. “I will go with you. Not to your dressing-room, but to the stables. I will see you at dinner, Hermes?”

Hermes honestly had been planning to work through dinner, but his heart changes a bit at Artemis’s words. “... Yes, my sister. I will see you two again at dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm voting Hermes for 'nicest god in PJO/HOO/TOA.' I mean, he acts very human, he's super chill, he gave Percy a ton of cool shit in SOM, he loved Luke even after Luke tried to end the world... I mean, really.
> 
> Also, if TON ends sadly for whatever reason, I actually don't think I'll ever recover.


	120. Non-shippy-Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's directly after Manhattan. Chris has a really important message for Percy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested to see campers/Chiron reacting to the news that Percy had gotten the gods to claim all of their kids. I had some trouble getting it to work exactly as was stated in the request, so I changed it just the tiniest bit. I hope it's still satisfactory despite its short length.
> 
> I'm a bit insecure about this one. Please be gentle.
> 
> No real warnings.

“Percy?”

Percy turned. He’d just sat down for the first time post-Battle of Manhattan. It had barely been purposeful, he’d really just fallen hard under Thalia’s Tree and curled up. He may have fallen asleep if not for the fact that Chris Rodriguez was now approaching him. “Oh… hey, man. How’s Clarisse?”

“Asleep. She cried herself out,” Chris sighed. “I’m letting her rest.”

Percy blinked. He tried to picture Clarisse in tears and ran into the end of his imagination. “... Oh.”

“Yeah, a lot of people have trouble imagining Clarisse showing emotion,” Chris laughed. “Anyway, that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.”

“Why did you want to talk to me?” Percy asked. 

“I wanted to say… thanks,” Chris replied, sitting down next to Percy. “For making the gods promise to claim their kids. I think… I think it’ll really help.”

Percy yawned. “Yeah, man, no problem. It’s cool.”

“No, really. You don’t understand. I defected because I spent three years or so unclaimed.” Chris stared down at his hands, folded in his lap. “You have no idea how many kids you just saved. How much tragedy you prevented. Percy, seriously, thank you. From me, from the Hermes cabin, from the ex-defected, from the unclaimed. From everyone. Thank you.”

Percy swallowed back the lump that had formed in his throat. “... No problem, man. It’s fine. No issue here.”

“All in a day’s work, huh?” Chris looked back up at Percy, giving a small smirk.

“... No, I… I’m just saying that telling the gods to keep an eye on their kids wasn’t the hardest part of the deal. I just hope they keep up their end of the bargain,” Percy sighed. 

“I hope so too, but regardless of their actions, you still did the right thing,” Chris reassured. “And it’s the thought that counts. I’ll still be happy even if nothing ever comes of it. Even if the gods don’t change at all, you’re still our noble hero.”

Percy sniffled. “Ah, fuck, dude, don’t make me emotional. You don’t want to see me cry.”

“Oh, yeah, don’t cry,” Chris laughed. “Ah, geez, if you almost cried when I just verbally thanked you, I can’t imagine how you would have reacted if we’d gone ahead and made you the thank-you card that Travis and I briefly discussed.”

“You and Travis wanted to make me a thank-you card?” Percy’s eyes were bright with emotion. 

“We discussed it,” Chris shrugged. “But now I think it’s better that we didn’t.”

“Because I would have cried, or because Clarisse would have killed you?” 

“Both,” Chris laughed. “Yeah, I don’t want to cause Clarisse any more upset.”

“... She’s probably in a state,” Percy murmured. 

“She is. She drove off to see Silena’s dad, you know… break the news, and didn’t come back for two days. When she did, one of her brothers had to come get me because she wasn’t speaking at all and wouldn’t get out of bed. I found her and she was just… _wrecked._ Like, I can’t even describe it.” Chris took a deep breath. “Anyway, that’s just one more reason I have to thank you. You’ve prevented more tragedies like Silena from ever happening again.”

Percy’s stomach sunk. “... Chris, I…”

“You what?” Chris asked gently.

“... I sent Silena back to get Clarisse,” Percy whispered. “I… I thought…”

Chris put a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “We already know. She told us.”

“... Clarisse is probably enraged,” Percy sniffled. “She’s gonna kill me.”

“She’s not mad at you, I don’t think,” Chris shrugged. “I think she’s blaming herself more than anything. I think you’re good for now. Anyway, even if you did make a mistake with Silena, it still doesn’t invalidate your heroism. You did your best, and in the end, you saved the world. You’re still a hero to me.”

Percy felt something prickle in the corner of his eyes. “Come on, man, you’re getting me all misty.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Chris smiled, holding up his hands. “For one last time, though, thanks.”

Percy wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. “No problem, man. I… I don’t… really want to think about this anymore, though.”

Chris laughed. “No problem. You want to go raid the Big House fridge?”

Percy’s eyes lit up. “Dude, is that even a question for you? Of _course_ I want to raid the Big House fridge!” He wobbled to his feet, extending a hand to Chris.

Chris, perhaps wisely, didn’t take it. He stood up, grinning at Percy. “Last one there is a rotten egg?”

Percy was off like a shot. “Last one there is a rotten egg!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon, I really hope this is up to snuff.


	121. Percabeth-She's the Perfect Demigod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy opens a can of worms. It's meant to be a simple question, but it turns into so much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of parental neglect/abandonment. No worse than what's in the canon.

“Did…”

Annabeth started from where she was lying over Percy’s chest. “Did what?”

“Never mind,” Percy replied. “It’d just ruin the mood.”

“What mood? We weren’t getting it on.” Annabeth yawned and sat up, looking at Percy. They were lying in Percy’s bed in his mother’s apartment, taking the time just to enjoy each other, their first since the incident with Gaia. “Just tell me what you wanted to say.”

“... Did your mother ever forgive you?”

Annabeth started. “... I haven’t a clue. I mean, she fought by my side when we were fighting Gaia, and I didn’t lose my sanity, so…  _ maybe?  _ I mean, my cap got destroyed when the Argo wrecked, so it’s possible we’ll never know for sure.”

Percy reached out, taking her hand, looking at the ceiling. “... I think you’re the perfect demigod daughter.”

Annabeth cleared her throat. “And there’s our problem. As long as you and I are in love, there’s no way I’ll ever fully be on good terms with my mother.”

Percy looked down, an expression of crushing pain in his eyes. “... I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I am. I’d leave…”

“Okay, no. Don’t start with that shit. I made my choice. Percy, she did nothing for me except that cap. I got my brains from my dad.” A giggle bubbled up from her throat. “Sure, it hurt, but losing you would hurt more.” She leaned in and pulled Percy into a kiss. “I lose her favor, sure, whatever. I keep on chugging. She can’t take my mind. I lose you and I’m crushed.”

Percy reached out, his arms soft and inviting. He didn’t quite know why, but he needed her close to him. “... I can’t believe… Annabeth, I… I…” His voice cracked. “I love you, okay? I don’t know… I love you. And I wish I could have helped you with the pain. Wiped your eyes. Provided some relief.”

Annabeth curled up in Percy’s arms and laughed. “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t your fault. Besides, as I said, you mean more to me than anyone.”

Percy rolled over to his side, squeezing her, emotion choking at his chest, his heart. “... I love you.”

_ I don’t deserve him.  _ “I love you too. Look, Percy, I stand by what I did. I chose you above her. Sure, I did her stupid quest, but… but…” A sharp pain jabbed at her insides. Her voice broke. “I’m sorry.”

“It hurts more than you let on, doesn’t it?”

Annabeth nodded. “... I’m sorry. It just… it feels really futile at times, like I try and I try and I try and I still get punished, get everything taken away… for what? What for?” A sob broke from her lips.

“I don’t know. It’s a Greek tragedy, gods and all. Heroes are never happy, Annabeth. You told me so yourself,” Percy sighed, holding her a little closer.

Annabeth nodded. “... I just… oh, gods, Percy, I…”

“I know. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. We’re never gonna be separated again. Even if the whole world turns their back on you, I’m still here,” Percy whispered. 

“... Do you think she’s forgiven me?” Her voice was barely audible.

“... Yes,” Percy murmured. “I do. She wouldn’t fight by your side if she despised you, right?”

Annabeth wiped her eyes. “... I guess so.”

Percy nodded. “I hope so. You deserve the world, Wise Girl, even if you don’t see it. And look at all those who love you, Chiron, my mother, Paul, the other members of the Seven. Myself. You’re everything to me, okay? And you’re always gonna have me. I’m never leaving your side.” He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her hard, trying to send as much love as he could into the touch. It had become too painful to restrain himself. “Never ever.”

Annabeth sniffled, breathing in Percy’s scent, sweet sea air. “... ‘M never leavin’ you either,” she whispered into the kiss. “No matter what she says.”

Percy pulled away a tiny bit. “And if you need to cry, my shoulder’s yours to cry on, okay?”

Annabeth buried her face under Percy’s chin. Tears pricked at her eyes. “... I love you, okay? You’re… you’re everything to me. I don’t have a family. I don’t have many friends. I have you, Percy. Well, and the Seven. But other than that…” She sniffled, wiping her eyes. “It’s all you, Percy. It’s  _ all you.” _

Percy squeezed her. “I won’t fail you, Annabeth. I won’t. I… I just won’t. I’ll… I’ll be a good friend, family man, lover, whatever you need. And I know that that sounds like I’m bullshitting you in an attempt to make you feel better, but I’m not.”

Annabeth pulled back. She poked the tip of Percy’s nose. Percy’s eyes crossed cutely. “Don’t. Don’t try and be a hero. I don’t want you to be perfect. I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t want to hear it right now.”

Percy twisted his finger in her hair. He didn’t quite know why he was doing it, but it felt right. Grounding, somehow. One little ringlet to give his finger a hug. “... What can I do, then?”

Annabeth leaned back into Percy’s chest. “... Tell me you love me. And tell me you’ll stay with me. I know you just said it, but I need to hear it again. I don’t want heroism or perfection. All I want is you, by my side.”

Percy felt something warm and wobbly flow through his chest. Tears pricked at his eyes. “... I love you,” he whispered. “I’m always gonna stay with you. I love you so much.” His voice broke. “More than anything. I need you.”

Annabeth took a deep breath. A softness filled her chest. A few tears dripped into Percy’s shirt. “... I need you too, Percy, I… I…” A hiccup jolted her chest. “I can’t say any more,” she squeaked.

“... That’s okay,” Percy murmured. “Cry if you need. I’ve got you.”

Annabeth pressed her face into Percy’s chest. Percy felt her body shake slightly from her sobs, heard her shaky breaths. He wanted to pour love and care into her, flush out all the pain and smooth her jagged edges, but he knew he’d just cut himself on her points. He loved her too much to take her pain. It wouldn’t help if he hurt, too. 

He’d heard Paul talk, sometimes, in his preachy teacher-voice, about how romantic it was when couples were comfortable enough to cry together, but Percy had never believed it. After all, if both people were a crying mess, then who would provide comfort? Someone always had to be the strong one. And Percy was the man. There was no excuse. 

Percy took a breath. The scent of sweet lemons filled his nose. He held his breath, trying to hold her smell in his lungs for as long as he could, something of her that he could have inside himself forever. That no one could take from him. 

He rubbed her back gently, his fingers sinking into either side of her spine. It was as much to ground himself as it was to give her needed presence. Her flesh was solid and strong beneath his fingers, beneath her thin tee shirt. She was warm, which Percy would normally find deeply comforting, but now… it was different. It wasn’t the same when her chest heaved against his, when she cried like her world was collapsing, when she clung to him like he was the last lifeboat off the Titanic. It just wasn’t  _ right. _

All he could do was pray that she was as comforted by the feeling of his body as he was by hers.

It was a few moments before she pulled her face out of the soft nest Percy’s chest provided, her eyes red, her body still racked slightly by hiccups. “... Thank you, Seaweed Brain. I… I know I’ve said this, but I love you, okay?”

Percy kissed between her eyebrows. “I love you too.” He studied her face, the tear tracks stained on the perfect skin. “... Will you let me clean you up a little bit?”

Annabeth looked at him, her eyes wide and soft. “... I’d like that,” she finally whispered. 

Percy stood up. He tucked the blankets around her shoulders, trying to keep her comfortable. Even if he couldn’t keep her comfortable in her soul, he could keep her body comfortable, and that was something at least. 

He grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom and wet it before returning to the room. Annabeth was curled up under the blankets, her lips slightly downturned, her eyes closed. Her hair was spread all over the pillows, a golden spread of sunlight. He took a moment just to admire her. “... Wise Girl?”

“Mm?”

Percy crossed the room, sitting next to her, pushing her hair out of her face. “Are you sleepy?”

Annabeth gave a small nod. “... So tired.”

Percy kissed her cheek. “Okay.” He touched the washcloth to her cheeks, gently wiping over her face. “I’ll clean you up and give you some space.”

Annabeth grabbed his wrist. “Mm. No. Stay.”

Percy’s heart fluttered. He took her hand, rubbing his thumb over hers. “I’ll stay. Don’t be upset. I’ve got you.”

Annabeth gave his hand a little squeeze. “... Thanks. I love you. And… that washcloth feels nice.”

Percy smiled. “I’m glad. I was worried it would be too scratchy for you.”

Annabeth shook her head. “... No.”

Percy gave her face one last gentle wipedown for good measure and comfort before putting the washcloth on the nightstand. “Good. Are you… are you feeling a little better?”

Annabeth shrugged. “... I don’t know. I’m… I’m very tired. And… cold.”

Percy gently took one of her perfect strands of hair and wrapped it around his finger. “... Would you like me to be in the bed with you?”

A small smile graced Annabeth’s lips. She nodded.

Percy smiled and climbed in behind her, settling against her back, laying his arm into the dip of her waist. “Oh, you’re impossible to refuse.”

“... You’re not better,” Annabeth murmured. 

Percy chuckled. “You’re too nice.”

Annabeth didn’t respond. Percy listened as her breathing became softer, deeper, slower. He put a gentle kiss on the back of her neck. “... Sweet dreams, Wise Girl.”  _ For your sake, I hope your dreams are sweet. You’ve had enough pain. _

_ Gods, don’t you dare kick her while she’s down. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth breaks my heart. I want to give her the world.


	122. Percabeth-Scarred Thighs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy gets cornered after swim practice by one of his teammates. He's asked about some scars he has. Unfortunately, they aren't scars he wishes to talk about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a request fill for AnimeNightwing2002, who requested Annabeth defending Percy from some emotional threat. 
> 
> Warnings for mentions of child abuse and someone being accidentally insensitive.

“Perce?” 

Percy turns from where he’s sitting on the bench in the locker room post-swim practice. He’d stripped down to his skivvies in preparation for a shower, but he sees now that he’s going to be delayed a few minutes. Ian stands before him, rocking back and forth on the balls of his heels. He’s a skinny sort of kid that vaguely reminds Percy of the nerd kid that gets shoved in a locker in every bad high-school movie--curly hair and glasses. Percy doesn’t know Ian that well, never has, but they’re teammates and they’ve never really _not_ gotten along, so Percy decides to oblige him. “What?”

“... What happened to your legs? They're all scarred up.”

Percy flinches. He can almost feel the sting of the belt against his skin, the tender flesh of his thighs breaking under the snap. “Why do you care?”

“I dunno, man, they’re just really crazy looking.” A grin cuts across Ian’s face. 

_Seriously? I can’t even change without this shit happening?_ “I’m aware,” Percy grumbles. “Anyway… they’re from a skateboarding accident. Nothing serious.”

Ian cocks his head. “They don’t _look_ like they’re from a skateboarding accident.”

Percy sighs. “Okay. Yeah. I lied. They’re from a car accident. I’m fine now.”

“My mom was in a car accident. Her scars aren’t that bad and they don’t look like that,” Ian insists. “Come on, man, just tell me the truth!”

Percy decides to just skip the shower. He can bathe when he gets home. He gets up, yanks on a shirt and sweats, and moves towards the door. “I’m not telling you jack, Ian. Fuck off.” 

Ian scowls. “Fuck you too, man! Goddammit, what’s so bad about telling someone about a few scars? What, did someone throw you down and beat your ass or something?”

Percy flinches. He wants to drop to his knees right then and there. His stomach cramps with nausea. _Yes. Yes. Someone did. Someone did and now my body is disfigured and I can’t even change my clothes without someone asking me about it._

He storms from the locker room and turns left down the hall, clutching his bag. Ian is shouting something after him, but his heart is the only thing he can truly hear, downright thunderous in his ears. His breath comes quickly and it burns in his lungs, almost worse than the air down in Tartarus. He’s so distracted that he barely notices when he slams into another body near the end of the hallway. He looks up, right into a pair of stormy gray eyes. 

He almost sobs when he registers her. “Annabeth.”

“Percy.” Annabeth looks confused, not angry, just confused. “What’s happening? I heard Ian shouting, you pissed him off pretty bad.”

“Ask him if you care that much.” Percy doesn’t mean to snap at her, not really, but his alternative is breaking down in her arms and _gods damn him if he’s doing that in the hallway of Goode Public High School._

“Okay. I will. You stay here,” Annabeth orders. “Don’t do anything stupid. Ian?”

Ian turns. “What do _you_ want?”

“Nothing, really. I just wanted to know what Percy did to make you yell at him,” Annabeth replies. 

“All I did was ask him about the scars he’s got all over his thighs. He got really mad at me,” Ian grumbles. 

Annabeth’s stomach churns. _Scars on his thighs… oh gods. There’s only one explanation for that._ “What did he say, exactly?”

“Well, he came up with a couple of lies, skateboarding accident, car accident,” Ian tallies. “When I called him out on those being lies, he got mad at me and told me to fuck off. After that I kinda got mad and asked him if someone had beaten his ass or something.”

Annabeth scowls. “You don’t say that to people, Ian. You just don’t. It’s incredibly insensitive. I mean, you can’t always tell who was mistreated as a kid.”

Ian hangs his head. He’s scowling slightly. He stays like that for a long time, seemingly deep in thought. Finally, he looks up and sighs. “Look, ‘Beth, I don’t want to get in some big fight. I mean, I don’t want this to be the sort of thing that consumes the whole-ass school, you know? It’s just not worth my time. Can we lay this to rest? Make it go away?”

Annabeth scans him. _This is a kid. A mortal kid._ “... Sure. As long as you promise not to harass Percy on this issue again, okay?”

“Sure. I’ll make something up,” Ian shrugs. 

“Think what you think. But don’t you _dare_ spread some idiotic rumor. Not because of me, I don’t want to fight you. But mark my words, Percy will. He doesn’t have my self-control,” Annabeth warns, pointing at Ian, then back at Percy. “He could hurt you _real_ bad.”

Ian snorts. “Oh, I know that. Remember when he gave Marco that black eye because of that comment he’d made about his mother?”

“The MILF comment? Yeah, I do. I was terrified. I thought they’d expel him,” Annabeth half-wheezes. “Anyway, we’re off topic. Do you agree to my requests?”

Ian shrugs again. “For my own safety, sure. I don’t want to goad the guy… _that_ far.”

“That’s intelligent,” Annabeth replies. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“When you wait for Percy again? Yeah, sure,” he laughs. “See you tomorrow.”

Annabeth doesn’t respond. She walks back to Percy, who’s standing exactly where she left him, and takes his hand. “How are you holding up?”

He stirs as if recovering from a trance. “How’d the talk go?”

Annabeth sighed. “He’s gonna give it up. I told him that if he pressed you on it you were gonna fight him, and that seemed to scare him into submission a bit. I mean, he’s short, right? You could break that kid.”

Percy gives a small nod. “... Guess I could. Sheer size alone can win most weaponless brawls.”

“... Yeah,” Annabeth agrees. 

They fall into silence. Annabeth’s hand is warm in Percy’s, reassuring in ways he cannot describe. Something is loose and wobbly in his heart and all he wants is for Annabeth to hold him, just cuddle him, for a very long time. 

Annabeth’s gentle hand winds up leading Percy out to the car lot. “Are you okay to drive, or should we wait for Paul?”

“... Wait,” Percy murmured. “I want to wait.”

“Okay. You have the keys, right?”

Percy nods. He unlocks the doors with one push of the button. Annabeth slips in the back doors, patting the seat beside her. “Wanna sit with me?”

Percy’s cheeks warm. He slips in beside her, letting their legs touch, not wanting to seem too needy but at the same time desperately needing to assuage the thing that was needling at his breastbone. Annabeth extends her arms and Percy leans against her, his eyes slipping shut. Her body feels like heaven, warmth and safety bleed from her in equal measure. 

She brings his world down in nine simple words.

“I didn’t know you had scars on your thighs.”

Percy buries his face in her shoulder. His heart feels agonizingly cold. “... I… yeah, I’ve… I don’t want to talk about it.”

Annabeth kisses the small part of his jaw that she can see. “I won’t make you. You can tell me in your own time, or not tell me at all. I don’t need to know if you don’t want me to.”

Percy pulls away, closing his eyes. _He disfigured me. He fucking disfigured me. He did it over the course of a fucking decade and no one ever noticed and no one ever cared. And no one ever will._

“... Did you hear me?” Annabeth’s voice is so gentle it nearly breaks him.

Percy turns his head when he hears her, despite the screaming in his head. He nods, slowly, blinking back the tears that have gathered in his long dark lashes.

Annabeth gently thumbs them away. “Hey, don’t cry. Ian’s off your ass. I’m here for you. You’re okay now, I think. Or at least I trust that you’d tell me if you truly weren’t.”

Percy closes his eyes. “... I’m physically safe. Well, safe as a demigod ever is in the mortal world. But… ah, man, it just _hurts_ sometimes, you know?”

Annabeth kisses him again, a chaste press on his lips. “No, I know. I hurt too. You’ve seen me hurt. I just hope that… if you’re really in pain, you’d tell me. So I could… try to help.” She chuckles drily. “I’m not a shrink, but I’d do my damnedest.”

Warmth spreads behind Percy’s breastbone and he takes her hands. “... Thank… thank you so much, Wise Girl. It really means a lot.”

Annabeth laughed, a sweet, carefree sound. “No problem, Seaweed Brain. I’m just happy I helped.”

“Yeah. Gods know, if you hadn’t intervened, I may have fought him.” Percy puts on a small smile, a brave little thing.

Annabeth wants to kiss it senseless. “I would have _killed_ you,” she snorts. “Like, seriously, man, learn some de-escalation skills.”

“I _have_ de-escalation skills,” Percy grumbles. “I just don’t always use them.”

“Yeah. That’s evident.” Annabeth sighs, then plants another kiss on his cheek. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. It turned out fine.”

Percy meets her eyes, then kisses her lips. “Yeah. It all turned out fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deciding that Percy had whipping scars across his thighs and buttocks may have been the best thing I've ever done for my fanfiction career.
> 
> Also, does anyone else get the idea that Ian may not be quite straight? If he noticed that Percy had scars in, you know, a region that you don't normally look at on another person unless you're into them? I don't know. I made him up for this drabble.


	123. Percabeth-Never Lose Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy feels like he promises a lot of stuff he can't fulfill. Annabeth doesn't agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PERCY! Anyway, here's some fluffy stuff in honor of the birthday boy. Because it didn't feel right to make him cry on his birthday.
> 
> Warnings for a lot of swearing, Percy being insecure.

“... Do you think I make too many grandiose promises?”

Annabeth turned from where she was sitting at her desk. Percy was lying on their bed, staring at the ceiling. “... You’ve never made any grandiose promises,” Annabeth replied. “Well, not to me, anyway. Maybe to others. I don’t know.”

“I told Calypso I’d get her off the island. I didn’t. I told Porky’s fish I’d get them out. Frank wound up getting someone else to do it,” Percy shrugged. 

“Percy, you  _ told  _ the gods to let her go. You made the effort. It isn’t your fault the gods didn’t follow through.” Annabeth leaned back in her chair and sighed. “And as for the fish, if Frank made it happen, then what the hell is the problem? I know you’d have done it yourself if you thought it hadn’t happened. Anyway, why did you even ask?”

Percy rolled onto his side, hugging his stomach. “... I don’t… hm. I’m… I’m a little insecure, I guess. I feel like… I feel like… I feel like I’m fucking up this relationship somehow. Or like… I’m concerned that…” Percy looked up, then looked down again. “... I don’t want you to leave. I… I  _ need  _ you, Wise Girl. And I’m really sorry, because I sound like a bitch when I say that, but I… I mean it.”

“Why the fuck do you think I’m gonna leave you?” Annabeth stood up and crossed the room, perching on the bed so that Percy’s body was curved around hers. “Which idiot told you that?”

“... I don’t… well… mm. No one said you were gonna leave me, it’s just… I don’t know. I just…” He took a deep breath. “I heard that… that when someone makes a lot of promises to their partner and they… they can’t always fulfill, it… it tanks the relationship.”

Annabeth leaned on Percy’s body, resting her head on his shoulder. “Fuck them. I think we make it work just fine. I mean look, we have problems. We argue. But if you’re throwing away a whole-ass relationship because of a few small problems, then there’s something fucking wrong with you. Look, Percy, I  _ love  _ you. And my love transcends our problems.” She nuzzled his shoulder. “I mean, look. You don’t… want out, right?”

“No! No, no. Absolutely not! You’re my everything!” Percy rolled to his back, looking up at Annabeth as she sat up to accommodate him, their hips pressed to each other. His sea-green eyes were wide and vulnerable, a soft, aching pain held in the corners. “Don’t go, please!”

Annabeth leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead, a protective blessing. “I’m not going, Percy. Don’t worry. I was just making sure that you weren’t bringing it up because  _ you _ wanted to leave. Anyway, no. If you’re bringing a legit problem to my concern, then sure. Do that. We’ll work on it. But if you’re just self-deprecating, I don’t want to hear it.”

Percy looked up at her, his eyes vulnerable and owlish. “... I’m trying to tell you something. I really want to know whether or not you think I make too many promises. Like… like  _ never separated again,  _ or  _ we’re okay.  _ You know?”

Annabeth laughed.  _ “Never Separated Again  _ was something I needed to hear at the time. Look, I understand it may not be a hundred percent feasible. But in all honesty, that was romantic as shit. I thought it was cute.” She kissed his nose. “Also, do you really think I would have entertained it if I was bothered by it?”

Percy blushed faintly. “No, I… I don’t. I love that about you.”

Annabeth smiled. “Exactly. And besides that, I can’t name a single grandiose promise you ever made to me.”

“But I… but I always said we were all okay. I said we were together. I said we were gonna make it,” Percy managed.

Annabeth sighed. She took his hand. “You never said it was okay. You never said we were gonna make it. You said we were together. You said you’d protect me. You never said it was all going to be hunky-dory, or even that we were all gonna be safe or okay. You never promised me anything you couldn’t fulfill. All you promised me was your companionship.” She kissed his knuckles. “And Percy, you  _ fought  _ for that shit. Through Alaska, through the bad place, through everything. You fought and fought and  _ fought  _ for the right to be by my side. Do you have any idea how much that  _ means  _ to me?”

Percy gave a small shake of his head. 

_ “Everything,”  _ Annabeth insisted. “Everything. I love you so fucking much.”

“... I love you too,” Percy whispered. “Fucking hell, ‘Beth, I… it hurts because… I love you, but there's a part of me that’s so  _ scared,  _ you know? I just… I’m scared I’ll do the wrong thing and… and…”

Annabeth held his hand to her chest. “I’m not leaving you, okay? Percy, I need you just as much as you need me. You leaving would shatter me. I love you. And again, I don’t think you make too many promises. What I think you do is… Percy, you have  _ hope.  _ And if someone’s trying to tell you that having some fucking hope, and trying to share it with me, is ‘making too many promises’ or some other, then they can go fuck themselves.” She kissed Percy’s knuckle, hard, mashing her lips against the bone. “Look, you  _ need  _ to feel some hope. And whatever shreds of hope you found, you shared them with me. And Percy, that’s  _ beautiful.  _ It’s  _ beautiful  _ that you haven’t been broken yet. It’s  _ beautiful  _ that you haven’t lost hope. It’s  _ beautiful  _ that you haven’t given up.” She turned, leaning in and pressing her lips against his. She waited until she felt Percy’s chest twitch beneath her palm, his lungs desiring for air, to pull away. “Every time I’ve wanted to give up, you gave me hope. And Percy, I  _ need  _ that.”

Percy took a deep, shuddery breath. “... You give me hope, too. Just because… you’re there. And you… love me. And… some day, we may… never mind.”

A laugh bubbled from Annabeth’s chest. “No, share the hope.”

“... But I don’t want to make any false promises.”

Annabeth grabbed Percy’s face, holding his chin. “Don’t give a shit! Tell me anyway! I want to know why you have hope. I want to know what you think is worth fighting for.”

Percy closed his eyes. “... Someday, we may be married and happy and have kids of our own and… a proper house somewhere, instead of a little apartment, you know?”

“... Is that your dream? The one you’ve been fighting for this whole time?”

Percy nodded.

Annabeth could see the stress written in the lines of his face. She stroked his cheekbone. “Percy, that’s  _ cute.  _ That’s  _ really  _ cute!” She giggled again. “See? If you never shared that about yourself, I wouldn’t have that to hold on to when I’m upset. And if it gets ruined? If I’m infertile, or if we can’t find the money for a house, yadda yadda, then we’ll find a new dream! It isn’t the end of the world. I know life doesn’t give you even fucking half of what you want, but we’ve always found a way, haven’t we?” She looked up. “Ah, fuck, now it’s  _ me  _ who’s making the promises.”

Percy gave a watery chuckle. “... No, we  _ have  _ always found a way. It’s… it’s miraculous that we’re still here and… not  _ okay,  _ but…  _ here,  _ you know?”

Annabeth smiled. She looked around at their room, a small little bedroom in a small little apartment in a crusty part of New Rome. “... Yeah. We’re… we’re  _ here.  _ And… and no, we’re not  _ okay,  _ per se, but we are  _ together,  _ and we are  _ here,  _ and that does mean something. I can’t deny that.”

Percy nodded. “Yeah. That means a fuck of a lot.”

Annabeth went on. “And we help each other, too. Comfort each other through the bad times--”

“--Or… I try, anyway,” Percy cut in, giving a self-deprecating chuckle.

Annabeth laughed. “You do try, Percy. And I appreciate it more than anything.” She kissed his lips. “And I’ll try to help you too.”

“And you do.” Percy brought his hands up, resting them in the curves of her waist. “You help me so much. You wake me up when I have nightmares, comfort me afterwards, reassure me when I’m scared, make me feel better when I’m sad. I… I’m so glad I don’t piss you off.”

Annabeth chuckled. “No, you don’t piss me off. You do your best, and you always comfort me, and I love you for it, okay? Everything you just said applies in reverse as well. You are as much if not more of a comfort to me as I am to you, okay?”

Percy blushed. He looked up at Annabeth, his eyes full of so much love it nearly broke her. “Thanks,” he murmured. “... I’m so… I’m so happy that I can help.”

Annabeth smiled warmly. She brushed his hair off of his forehead, more of an excuse to touch than anything. “I’m glad you’re happy. Are you feeling a bit better?”

Percy nodded. “... Yeah.” He pulled her a little closer, snaking his arms further about her waist. “Thank you so much.”

Annabeth giggled. She lay down on his chest, lying across his body. She took a deep breath, nuzzling the soft tee shirt that covered his chest. “You’re welcome, Seaweed Brain. Thank  _ you  _ for never losing hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sends percy virtual birthday hugs* Never lose hope, babey boy


	124. Solangelo-Forgiven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico's never been popular with animals. He's got an aura that most find offputting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! You may have noticed that in a few prior drabbles I mention Nico having a cat named Gremlin, despite the fact that it's mentioned in a few different places that most animals fear Nico. I... kind of?... try to write a little more about that here. I honestly just forgot the line in HOH where he says that originally. And also I like cats.
> 
> Warnings for Nico being very self-deprecating.

“Hey, Neeks,” Will ran up to Nico, ducking through the trees that shielded their private special spot by the lake. “I got something to show you.”

Nico raised his head. “What is it?”

Will sat down. He held out a small black fuzzball. “I found him behind the Apollo cabin. I think he’s why our mice are disappearing.”

Nico cocked his head. “It’s a kitten.”

“Yeah. As I said, mice.” Will pulled the kitten back against his chest and scratched it behind the ears. 

Nico snorted. “Well, it’s pretty damn brave. I’m surprised it hasn’t run away from me yet.”

Will looked up at him. “Why would anyone ever run away from you?”

“Animals hate me. Apparently I radiate death.” He lay down in the cool grass. “I mean, if you were some little creature, and a giant monstrous _thing_ came up to you, stinking of death, killing all the plants around him, would you move closer, or would you run away?”

Will was silent for a long time. “... If… if it were in pain… maybe I would move closer.”

“Really? Without giving a damn for your own survival? Animals don’t have your high-horse morality, Solace. They don’t give a damn if I’m in pain. All they feel is my death aura.” Nico took a deep breath, pushing down the wet emotion that was suffocating in his chest. “... Anyway. Enjoy your new kitten. It’s adorable.”

“... It’s not mine. I can’t keep it. Not in the Apollo cabin,” Will replied. “It would kill all the mice. Also, Austin’s like, crazy allergic.”

“Take it to the pound, then. Or give it to Chiron and see if he’ll keep it in the Big House.”

“... You don’t even want to try to pet it? I mean, you said it was adorable. And it’s not running away, as you said.”

Nico scowled over at Will. “Are you _insane?”_

“I think it would be good for you to try. He hasn’t run away yet, he’s not hissing at you, so why not?” Will’s eyes were wide and soft. It made Nico want to trust him absolutely. 

“You’re an idiot,” Nico grumbled, reaching for the cat Will held in his lap. 

The kitten leaned in, sniffing his fingers. He looked up at Nico with wide green eyes. Nico put a finger between his ears.

The kitten didn’t run. 

Tears pricked in Nico’s eyes. “... Why isn’t it running?”

“I think he likes you.” Will’s voice was gentle. “See? Not _all_ animals hate you.”

“That’s only because you’re here. Your life aura drowns out my death one.” He scritched the kitten behind his ears. “If I tried to pick him up the way you’ve been picking him up, he’d run for the hills.” 

Will shrugged. “Why don’t you try it, then?”

“Only if you’re okay to lose your kitten,” Nico sighed. He grabbed the kitten, picking it up. The kitten made a noise like a malfunctioning electrical socket. Pain flared in his hand as it swatted him. He dropped it and it bolted into the nearby trees.

“I’m sorry,” Will started. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know he would do that. I thought he would be… I didn’t know it would spook. I’m sorry.”

Nico stared as little drops of blood welled on the back of his hand. His eyes stung. “... I told you so,” he mumbled.

“Here,” Will murmured. “Let me clean that up. It’s not good to leave a cat scratch uncleaned. It could get infected really easily.”

Nico extended his hand. Will opened his first-aid kit, poured some rubbing alcohol onto a Kleenex and sponged off Nico’s hand gently. Nico clenched his fingers in Will’s palm as the rubbing alcohol burned at his skin. He sniffled.

“You okay?” Will asked. He could practically _see_ the tears rimming Nico’s big dark eyes, even though his head was down.

Nico shook his head slightly. 

Will gently smoothed a Band-Aid on his hand before releasing it. “C’mere. Get a hug. I think you need it.”

Nico fell against Will, burying his face in his shoulder. “... ‘M sorry, Will, I… I… I’m… I’m…”

Will gently held Nico against his own body. “You’re?”

“... I’m horrible,” Nico whispered. “I’m foul. I’m evil. My soul is rotten. I should…” His voice broke. “... Percy should have let me die in the jar. He… he never should have… rescued me.”

Will swallowed, trying to stifle his own tears. “... Nico, _no._ You’re not… oh, gods.” He held Nico tighter, burying his face in Nico’s shoulder. “... You’re not… anything like that.”

Nico sniffled. “... Ask the fucking kitten.”

Will didn’t respond. He rocked Nico back and forth, gently, more gently than Nico deserved. Cool tears trickled into Will’s neck. He couldn’t stifle it. The deep pain that had been rotting in his chest had swollen up to be something too big to handle. He was hated, he knew that, but he couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. He’d just reached a point in his life where he didn’t feel like the entire world despised him. He’d been doing better.

He suddenly realized that he’d been lying to himself. 

“... Why are you still here?” Nico whispered. “I’m hateful and gross--why do you like me?”

“... Because your soul is pure. There’s a side of you that’s pure and soft. I mean, I don’t think that a hateful, gross, rotten, foul, evil person would feel bad if animals didn’t like him. Nico, you’re sweet. You’re grouchy sometimes, but in the end, you’re still very kind.” Will took a deep breath. “You’re not a terrible person. You’re not evil. Your powers don’t make you who you are. They’re a part of you, sure, but they’re not _you._ Your death aura doesn’t come from your soul. I’ve seen your soul. There’s no death there.” Will nuzzled Nico’s hair. “It’s just not present.”

Nico sobbed quietly. “... You’re… so, so, _so_ stupid, Will… I… I can’t stand you…”

Will rubbed between Nico’s shoulder blades. “... I’m so sorry. I don’t… I don’t know what else to say. I love you. But if you think you’re evil, and you think I’m an idiot for thinking you’re the sweetest thing that’s ever happened to me, then I can’t change your mind.”

Nico barely nodded. He pressed himself deeper into Will, feeling the warmth flowing into his body, steady, reassuring and soft. “.. ‘M sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Will whispered, not letting go.

A few moments passed before Nico pulled away. He wiped the tears out of his eyes, staring at his jeans. “... I’m sorry. I just… I don’t want… I don’t want these powers. I don’t want everyone thinking of me as some angel of death. I just… I just want to be… I don’t want to be terrifying.”

Will gently stroked a hand over Nico’s shoulder. “... It’s okay, Neeks. I’m not scared of you. Cecil and Lou Ellen aren’t scared of you. The Stolls aren’t scared of you. The people who actually take the time to know you like you a lot. It’s only the people who don’t know you well who are scared of you. And as for the animals, they’re not entirely reliable. I mean, Hitler had dogs. Just because animals don’t really like you doesn’t make you evil or nasty. And just because animals like you doesn’t make you a good person.”

Nico nodded. “... I guess so.” He paused, sniffling. “... I kind of want to try again with the kitten. Just… apologize. Because… it did let me pet it. Maybe… maybe we could…”

Will shrugged. “I’m for it. I just don’t know where he went.” He stood up, peeking around through the bushes. “... I’m sorry, Neeks, he’s just not here.”

Nico felt his eyes sting again. “... I’m sorry, Will.”

Will sighed. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll see him again tonight when he comes over and tries to kill more of our mice.” He sat down next to Nico, gently putting an arm around his waist. “Don’t feel bad. We’ll find him again.”

Nico leaned against Will. “... You’re too sweet.”

Will kissed the top of his head. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’.”

  
  
  
  


A few days passed. Nico still felt bad. The painful swollen thing in his chest hadn’t quite gone down, despite Will’s repeated attempts to comfort him. All he could think about was the noise the kitten had made, the feeling of claws tearing at his skin. It hurt deeply. Not to mention the fact that he still had the little marks the kitten had made on his hand. 

He was curled up in his bed when he heard a knock at his door. He raised his head. “What do you want?”

“It’s me.” Will sounded breathless. “Let me in.”

“Door’s not locked,” Nico huffed, lying back down.

Will let himself in. “Good news.”

“What is it?”

Will held up a box. “I’ve caught our fugitive.” The kitten poked his tiny head up over the side. “Behind the Apollo cabin with a half-eaten mouse. Just as I suspected.”

Nico flinched a little. “... Oh. That’s… nice.”

Will sat down on the side of his bed. “Yeah! Now you get a second try!”

Nico looked up at Will, then down at the kitten. “... If he thinks I deserve it.” He sat up and extended a finger to the kitten. The kitten sniffed it a bit. 

“... I’m sorry,” Nico whispered into the box. “I’m really sorry. For… for grabbing you, and for… for smelling of… of the dead. I promise I won’t… I won’t hurt you. I won’t do anything bad. I’m not evil.” His voice caught. “... I’m not evil, I promise. I won’t hurt you. It’s… it’s okay.” Tears stung at his eyes, trickling down his cheeks. “... I don’t want to hurt you.”

Will put a hand on his back, warm and reassuring. “You’re doing so well,” he murmured.

The kitten gave Nico’s hand a tentative nuzzle. It mewed slightly.

“Animals can sense intent, you know,” Will whispered. “I think he can tell your intentions are pure, even if you are a little deathy.”

Nico didn’t respond. He gently stroked the kitten behind the ears. “... You’re so good,” he finally murmured. “Both of you. I don’t deserve either of you.”

Will rubbed soothing circles on Nico’s back. “Would you like to try to hold him?”

Nico shrugged. “... I don’t… I don’t want to risk it.”

Will nodded. “How about I just put him in my lap for now?”

“... Do what you do,” Nico sniffled.

Will gently moved the kitten to his lap. It struggled up over Will’s leg and put one paw on Nico’s. 

Nico closed his eyes. Tears poured down his cheeks. He stroked the kitten with one trembling finger. “... Oh, little one…”

“I think you’ve been forgiven.” The smile in Will’s voice was evident. “See? I _told_ you that once people get to know you, they quit being afraid of you!”

Nico sniffled. He leaned against Will’s shoulder. “... I didn’t think it applied to animals.”

Will put an arm around his waist. “Apparently it does.”

Nico had a sudden thought. “... But where will we keep him? I don’t think he wants to _live_ with me, even if I am… forgiven.”

The kitten lay down against Nico’s leg, purring slightly.

Nico whimpered. “... You’re so… so brave… even getting close to one like me… oh…” He pet him a little more, tears streaking his face. 

Will kissed his cheek. “I think we have our answer, darlin’. I think he _wants_ to be with you.”

“... Not even possible,” Nico whispered. 

“Well, I think it just happened.” Will hugged him a little tighter. “Anyway, his food and stuff can be in here. I don’t think he’s gonna stop being an outdoor cat just because we’re feeding him now, so…” He shrugged. 

“And if we’re feeding him, he won’t eat your mice,” Nico reasoned. “Yeah, that’s smart. But I still can’t… I mean, animals have never liked me. Why does…” He gestured to where the kitten was purring happily in his lap.

“He’s an exceptional one, I suppose,” Will sighed. “Look, man, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. You have a kitty friend now. That’s good, right?”

Nico gave a small nod. “... Yeah. I just… I hope… I hope it… I just hope I don’t mess it up, you know?”  
Will took Nico gently in a hug. “You won’t. I know you won’t. And if you do, I’ll be here.”

Nico leaned into Will’s embrace, stroking the kitten behind the ears. “... Thanks. It… it means a lot.”

There was a pause. Will traced his large warm hands over Nico’s back, his body. The swollen thing in Nico’s heart let up slightly. Nico couldn’t have been more thankful for it. 

“... What should we name him?” Will asked, his voice muffled by Nico’s hair.

Nico was quiet. “... Gremlin,” he finally said. “Because only a gremlin would care for someone like me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have like 8 unfinished drabbles in the works right now. I'm just having trouble finishing them.
> 
> This isn't the best thing I've ever written. I just kind of had to get it out there.


	125. Non-shippy (mentioned Percabeth, Frazel)-I Can't Ask For More For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's right after Nico was rescued from the jar. Right after Percabeth fell into Tartarus. Nico's not doing so well.  
> Hazel and Hedge decide to take care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a request fill for Rex88, who requested Nico being cared for post-jar.
> 
> Warnings for mentions of starvation, description of injuries, internalized homophobia. Basically just MOA/HOH era Nico being himself. Also, there's a vague mention of sexual abuse, but nothing happens.

“... One foot in front of the other, now,” Hedge murmured. One of Nico’s bone-thin arms was wrapped around his shoulders. The other was wrapped around Hazel’s. His legs were shaking badly. “You can make it. It’s just a little way down.”

“... So many stairs,” Nico whispered. 

Hazel squeezed him gently, putting her other arm around him, supporting him. She immediately felt just how _bony_ he was. “You can make it. I’ll help you. I’ve got you.”

“... What if I fall?”

“I’ll catch you. You’ve been through too much shit. You’re not suffering _one_ more injury right now, not on my watch. Not until we’ve got more ambrosia into you.” Hedge shook his head. “Come on, now, take the first step. I’ve got you.”

Nico groaned. He tentatively poked out his foot, feeling the step below. They were leading Nico below the Argo II’s deck, so he could get a proper shower and a place to rest. His clothes were ragged and filthy. Even his aviator’s jacket wasn’t looking good. His head spun and he leaned it against Hazel’s shoulder. 

Hazel looked over at him. His face was chalky. His eyes were fluttering open and closed. “... Hedge, I… I think he might need carrying.”

Hedge sighed. He grabbed Nico--he looked so _small,_ now--and slung him over his shoulder. He hung limply over Coach’s shoulder, too exhausted and weak to resist. “Alright. I got our boy. Let’s go.”

Hazel nodded. She took a deep breath, trying to put her turbulent emotions aside, even just somewhat. “What does Nico need right now?”

Hedge took a deep breath. “He needs to clean up. He needs fresh clothes. He needs… he needs electrolytes. We can give him Gatorade. I have some in the hold. His vitamin levels are dangerously low. I can give him some multivitamins from my private stash. That should stabilize him somewhat. Ambrosia and nectar should help too. Don’t give him food yet. He can’t eat right now. It’ll put him into shock. I’ll tell him when he can eat.”

Hazel’s eyes stung. “... Um… oh, gods. Okay.”

Hedge huffed. _“Please_ don’t start crying. It’s _so_ not helpful. How about this. Go find Valdez and see if he doesn’t have some clothes the kid can borrow. They’re about the same height. It’ll probably fit.”

“Where are you taking him?”

“Jackson’s room. He’s not using it right now.”

Nico grunted. He shook his head hard. “Uh uh! Uh uh!”

“Where, then?” Coach asked, obviously grumpy. 

“... Anywhere,” Nico croaked. “Not… not Percy. No Percy.”

“Fine. I’ll dump you in the boiler room where Valdez sleeps sometimes. Maybe you and he will get along,” he grumbled. “Dunno why you’re acting like this. He rescued your ass, kid.”

“... Percy… I couldn’t… not in… his bed.”

“You couldn’t sleep in his bed?” 

Nico managed a tiny nod. He felt Hedge bounce slightly. They’d reached the bottom of the stairs.

 _I bet he feels burdensome. For needing to be rescued. He probably doesn't want to bother Percy any more than he feels he already has._ “Okay, kid. I think I get it. I won’t press the issue.”

“... Can we clean him up first?” Hazel asked. “I think it would make him feel better if he were clean.”

Nico gave a small nod.

“Alright. I’m taking him to the bathroom, then. You go find Valdez.” 

Hazel nodded. She ran off.

Once she was gone, Nico raised his head slightly. “... Don’... don’ take… my clothes,” he whispered. “Don’... strip me.”

“Fuckin’ hell, kid, you act like I’m gonna assault you,” Hedge grumbled. “Relax. I’m not gonna do that. I’m not the type.”

Nico grunted. He heaved a wheezing breath. 

“But… just in case, is it okay if Hazel helps you clean up?”

Nico gave a tiny nod.

“Good. Just making sure you’re not gonna drown in the tub or some shit,” Hedge sighed. He entered the nearest bathroom, sitting Nico down on the closed toilet. Nico leaned heavily against the wall beside him. “Do you have wounds that need tending?”

Nico shook his head. “... Not… that severe. Will heal… themselves.”

Hedge studied him. “I’ll take your word for it.” He sighed. “Give me a moment. I’m gonna go get you some stuff that’ll help.”

Nico was still. He didn’t reply. Hedge wondered, for one brief moment, if Nico had just died in front of him. Then he stirred, slightly, and tilted his head, a sort of nod.

Hedge drifted out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Nico opened his eyes slightly. There was a mirror near him. When had he last seen one of those? His stomach clenched. It had been in Sally Jackson’s apartment, right before he left on his… death quest. He’d studied himself in the mirror the night before he left. Taken note of the shape of his face, his eyes, his lips. As if he’d known then that something would be different in his face should he survive.

He wondered what he looked like now. He’d seen how Percy winced when he’d seen him, in that brief, shining moment before Percy had… had…

 _No._ He couldn’t think about that now, couldn’t want for Percy’s face, his smile. Couldn’t wish Percy was here. Couldn’t wish that Percy would hold on to him, cuddle him close. Couldn’t wish for something Percy wouldn’t give, couldn’t give. Couldn’t wish for something immoral, couldn’t wish for something sick. No. He couldn’t think about Percy right now.

He blinked, letting his eyes fall closed. His eyes stung, but there were no tears. He couldn’t cry. There was no water left in his body to weep. He moaned, slightly, a guttural dry sound. _What if Percy looks as bad as I do if--no, when,_ when, _don’t think like that--he comes out? Who will care for him then? Who will heal his broken body? It won’t be me. It can’t be me. He won’t… he does not like me, not like that._

_Not in the sick way I like him._

He felt a soft touch on his cheek. “Nico?”

“... ‘Azel.” His voice sounded more shattered than he’d ever heard it. 

“You were wheezing,” Hazel murmured, setting a folded set of clothes on the countertop nearest the sink. “You were sitting there and wheezing hard for, like, ten minutes. And you looked like you were in agony.”

“... ‘M ‘kay,” Nico murmured. “... I… I feel… I’m not in… pain. Just… so… tired.”

Hazel stroked his hair. Strands fell out and drifted to the floor like little raven feathers. “No pain? Really?”

“... Little… pain,” Nico whispered. “... Stomach… hurts.”

“It’s empty. That’s all. Hedge is bringing you some Gatorade and multivitamins. That should make you a little stronger. Once your body is a little stronger, we can put real food into you. Does that sound good?”

Nico nodded. 

“Good,” Hazel whispered. “And with ambrosia and nectar, you should be back in play in no time.”

“... Weak,” Nico whispered. “... Very weak.”

Hazel stroked his cheek a little more before leaning in and kissing it. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Nico looked up at her. His head spun. She looked like an angel, the dim fluorescent light made a halo in her frizzy hair. The look on her face was nothing but warmth and compassion. Nico cursed his inability to cry. He leaned a little closer to her. 

She took his shoulders. “Hey, now,” she murmured. “Don’t pass out on me.”

“... Don’ leave,” he mumbled. “... Don’ go. I need you.”

Hazel moved her hand to stroke his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry.”

Nico gave a dull groan. He leaned his head into Hazel’s warm hands. “... Please… I don’… I…”

“... What can I do?”

Nico tried to raise his arms. It was heavy labor. His arms were so weary by the time that he got them into the proper position to ask for a hug that he feared he’d drop them before Hazel could get the message. 

All his fears were assuaged when Hazel wrapped her arms around him, under his own. He rested his arms on her shoulders, letting his head fall into her neck. His head was a dead weight. He couldn’t support it anymore. 

“Here, let’s sit. I’ll keep you upright.” Nico felt Hazel pull on him, lead him down. He felt the cold press of the tile against his legs before Hazel’s arms wrapped him, pulling his head against her shoulder. 

“‘M… sorry…” Nico croaked. “... ‘M not… a needy… person. I don’t… hug… much. ‘M just… so… tired.”

“I know,” Hazel whispered. “It’s okay. Don’t feel ashamed. I don’t think less of you for needing some sisterly comfort, especially not after what you’ve been through.”

Nico sighed. _I wish it were so easy._

  
  
  


A moment later, Hedge returned. “Sorry, cupcakes. I got a bit distracted. McLean had gone into a meltdown.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’ll be fine,” Hedge shrugged. “This is normal. Grace is with her.”

“... Jason… Grace? Praetor… Grace?” Nico croaked.

“Yeah. He’s the blond who helped Percy rescue you,” Hazel replied.

Nico yawned. “... He… doesn’t… look like… a Praetor. I imagined… him… as… more… imposing.”

Hazel laughed. “Yeah, he’s a softie once you get to know him. Reyna’s the imposing one in the praetorial bunch. Anyway, Piper’s the pretty girl who sat with you and Bacchus in the coliseum. Leo’s the scrawny Mexican kid. He calls himself the captain, but he isn’t. Annabeth is the captain. Or… was, anyway.”

“Is.” Nico’s whispered voice was firmer than Hazel had ever seen it. “Don’... think… that… way. We’re gonna… make it. Percy… wouldn’t… want… us losing… hope.”

Hazel thought back to Percy’s determination on the Alaska quest, his willingness to keep trucking, push through the worst circumstances imaginable, if for no other reason than to see Annabeth one more time. “You’re right,” she realized. “He’d want us to stay upbeat. He wouldn’t want us to lay down and die.”

Nico nodded slightly. “... Anyway… go… on.”

“Okay. You know Frank, Annabeth and Percy already, I think. Hedge is our ‘chaperone’ but he’s not really good at it.”

“Hey!” Hedge grumped. “I’ve done more for you fools than anyone!”

Hazel laughed. “Sure, Coach. Anyway, would you give Nico some Gatorade now?”

Hedge nodded. “Yeah. Head up, kid. I don’t want you to choke.”

Nico groaned. Speaking was painful and exhausting. He couldn’t imagine what lifting his head would feel like. He tensed his neck muscles, tilting his head just the littlest bit. His head spun. He wheezed.

“Help him out, Levesque,” Hedge ordered quietly.

Hazel tilted his head into an approximation of an upwards lean. 

Hedge sighed. “That’ll do.”

Nico felt a straw touch his lip. “Here, kid,” Coach murmured. “Drink this. It’ll help your body replenish itself a bit.”

Nico drank. Something cool and sweet washed over his tongue, along with a wave of indescribable emotions. He almost sobbed out loud when he realized he’d almost forgotten what it was like to drink. 

He audibly whimpered when the straw was pulled away.

“Hey, kid, don’t drink too much. I still have a few multivitamins for you to take.” Hedge pushed something plasticky and foul-smelling against his lips.

“... Whassit?” he mumbled.

“It’s a vitamin. I have one vitamin B pill and a vitamin C chewable. And then I have a couple of those old fuckin’... Flintstones chewables or whatever. That’s just a general thing.” Hedge gave an awkward chuckle. “I got them back when I taught elementary school.”

Nico grunted. He opened his mouth slightly.

Coach put the vitamin B pill on his tongue before sticking the straw between his lips. Nico drank it down, a small shudder of revulsion wracking his body.

“Yeah, yeah, kid,” Hedge grumbled. “I know it’s not pleasant. The next ones will be easier, I promise.”

Nico grumbled under his breath. 

“... What grades did you teach?” Hazel asked, wanting desperately to change the subject off of Nico’s discomfort. 

“I started with elementary school gym classes when I was about… ah, forty-three? Anyway, I taught that for a while.” He took a breath, poking the vitamin C tablet to Nico’s lips. “Here, kid, take this.” 

Nico took the pill into his mouth, chewing slowly. He made a slight sour face. 

“Sorry it’s not sweet enough for your liking, kiddo,” Hedge sighed. “Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. I transferred to middle school and taught that for… a really long time, actually. Found more demigods there. After that, I bounced through a few ‘alternative’ high schools. They’re the best places to find older demigods.”

“So… how old are these chewables?” Hazel asked.

“Dunno,” Hedge shrugged. “These things don’t expire, though, so we’re good.”

Hazel shook her head. “You better be right about that. The last thing Nico needs right now is a stomach bug.”

“No, I get it. He’s not gonna get sick, I promise. Hand on heart.” Hedge pushed two more little candy-looking things against Nico’s lips.

Nico ate the gummies, this time without puckers or revulsion, chewing in the same methodical way he had with the tablet. He swallowed. 

Hazel stroked his hair. “... Good job, Nico. You’re doing well.” 

“... I think my part ends now,” Hedge murmured. “I’ll go put a sleeping bag in the boiler room for you. Our offer of Percy’s room still stands.”

“... On deck,” Nico whispered. His voice was a little less rough than it had been before. “... Want to sleep… on deck.”

“Out in the fresh air,” Hazel murmured. “Yeah, that’ll probably be better for him.”

Hedge rolled his eyes. “Okay. Sleep in a deck chair, then. I don’t give half a shit. Whatever keeps you from throwing yourself overboard.”

“Uh huh.” Nico gave a nod.

“Anyway. Hazel, will you help him clean up?”

Hazel nodded. “Of course.”

“All right. I’m going,” Hedge nodded. He opened the door. “See you later.”

“Make sure Frank’s okay,” Hazel requested. “Please. He and Percy and Annabeth are friends. He’s gotta be shattered.”

Hedge gave a small nod. “Of course. Will do.” He closed the door behind him.

Nico grunted. “... You and… Frank.”

“We’re dating now,” Hazel said, quickly, easily. “We’re together.”

“... You’re… so young.”

“You think I’m too young to date?”

Nico could hear the edge in Hazel’s voice. “... Just be… careful.”

Hazel kissed his forehead. “It’s only Frank. He’s soft as anything. Don’t worry about it.”

Nico gave a small grunt of agreement.

Hazel sighed. “Now. Let’s clean you up a bit. May I help you out of your jacket?”

“Uh huh.”

“Good.” She lay Nico down across her lap, on his back, looking up at her. She gently unzipped his jacket.

_Gods._

His shirt was ripped to rags. Superficial scratches covered his torso, along with some small burns, Hazel didn’t know from what. She pulled his jacket off all the way. The rags that wrapped his torso hung and flapped off him. She gently pulled away the rags, trying not to hurt him. 

Her eyes watered at the sight of his body.

He looked like he’d been starved for years. She could see each individual bone through his paper-thin skin, which itself was torn, scarred and blistered. She pulled a small bit of ambrosia from her pocket and pushed it against his lips. “Here. Eat this. It’ll be good for your wounds.”

Nico ate, small little licks and bites. His eyes opened slightly as the magical snack sustained him. “... Thanks,” he whispered. 

Hazel stroked his shoulder. His skin reminded Hazel of glass. “You’re welcome. Do you need more help, or can you handle your own undressing and bathing?”

“... Will you please turn on the faucet?”

Hazel nodded. “Of course.” She balled his old tattered jacket under his head, using it as a makeshift pillow, and turned on the faucet. 

Nico had the sudden realization that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d used the bathroom. He almost chuckled at the ridiculousness of it all. Here he was, half dead on the floor in a ship full of the most powerful demigods of all time, minus two now since two of them were _literally crawling through hell,_ with the world coming to an end in less than a month, and he was thinking about the last time he’d taken a piss. It was insane.

Hazel crouched next to him, brushing hair off of his cheek. “I’ll leave you with another ambrosia square. If you start feeling really sick and weak, please eat it. It would be grossly shameful if, after everything you’ve been through, your end was met by drowning in a bathtub.”

Nico took her hand for a moment. He wanted to smile up at her, but it wouldn’t quite meet his lips. He gave her fingers a small kiss. “Help me sit up?”

Hazel dragged him into a sitting position by his hand. She wrapped her arms around his body, pulling him up to sit on the side of the tub. She leaned him gently against the wall. “Better?”

He nodded. 

“Good.” She kissed his forehead, a small blessing. “I’ll see you once you’re done. Your clothes are there. Leo had some stuff that he said would suit your tastes.”

Nico opened his eyes a crack. A black shirt and black jeans. _Of course._ He traced Hazel’s form with his eyes as she walked away, gently closing the door behind her. Once the door was closed, he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his tattered jeans, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor. 

He sucked a breath.

His hipbones were visible. His toes were pale and bony. One of his toenails had cracked. It looked a little swollen, but not too bad. _… If my body looks this sickly, then what must my face look like?_

He had to know. He grabbed the counter, heaving himself up. He clung to the ledge as his head spun, his legs trembling. He took a deep breath, wheezing slightly. He gave a slow blink, slowly tracing his eyes up the wall, over the reflection of a cold and pale and bony and corpselike chest, over collarbones sunk so deep they looked like shadows, up over a neck so pale it was bluish, up to _ohmygods…_

He almost screamed. 

Nothing in his face was recognizable. 

His skin was the color of milk. No, it was gray. His cheeks had lost their soft round shape. His lips had lost all their fullness. His eyes were sunken in. They’d lost everything they’d had before, all the anger, the rage, the sadness and pain, whatever happiness there was left. His hair was long and thin. His eyebrows, too, somehow. Half of his eyelashes had fallen out. He could see his own cheekbones. 

He looked empty. 

He _felt_ empty, he realized. He didn’t even have it in him to cry. He stumbled back, half-falling into the tub. The water was warm over his body. His teeth chattered violently--why? Why was he so cold? He was frigid, frigid somehow, his heart felt like a lump of ice in his chest. He tried to sit up. He had to get to that stream of water. It would be warm. Hot. He needed the heat. His body was ice. He needed water, warm water, warm hands, _Percy…_

_He’d let Percy fall._

He’d been right there. He’d been sitting right there. Oh, gods, if he’d been even marginally stronger, marginally less distracted, maybe he could have shadow-traveled them out, dragged them out, screamed so they’d hear him and cut the ropes and come back and there’d be Percy with his annoying Manhattan-boy accent and his cocky laugh and his stupid, idiotic, _beautiful_ face and those nicely toned arms that Nico wanted wrapped around him and maybe, _maybe_ Percy would have carried him down the stairs instead of Hazel and Hedge and Nico would only have to worry about those constant, neverending shameful _feelings_ that always plagued him whenever Percy was involved and it would be _perfect_ and _nothing would hurt_ and Nico wouldn’t have to sit here and picture Percy crawling on hands and knees out of _hell itself_ looking like a goddamn _corpse_ and it was _all his fault…_

… and now Hazel was busting in the door and she was starting, running with her eyes closed, trying not to see more than Nico wanted her to see, and she was cupping his cheeks (or whatever was left of them) in her hands, running her thumbs over the bone, and she was saying something, gently, Nico couldn’t tell what it was over the screaming in his head, but her tone was soft and comforting, and that was what mattered. He leaned his face back into her hands, and she leaned her forehead against his. 

  
  


It was a few moments before the screaming in Nico’s head started to subside. Hazel had turned off the tub faucet. The room was suddenly silent. “... Hazel.”

“I’m here,” she whispered. “And I’m not looking, by the way.”

“I know… you’re not,” Nico sniffled. “Thank you.”

“... You were screaming,” Hazel said matter-of-factly. “You were screaming so loudly I heard it from my room. We were terrified. We thought you were dying, Nico. Hedge told me to bust in or he would do it himself.”

Nico whimpered. “... I… I didn’t know… I was screaming.”

Hazel didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Finally, she kissed his forehead. “... I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Should I… stay here?”

Nico shook his head. “... No. I… I’ll make it. I just…”

“It’s hard?”

“Yeah.”

Hazel stroked Nico’s cheek. “After… after all this is over, we’ll get you some help, okay? We’ll find a quiet, safe place for you to recover. I don’t know if it’ll be in New Rome or Camp Half-Blood or the Underworld or what, but we’ll find somewhere where you can… get better.”

Nico leaned a little further into Hazel’s hands. “I love you. But I don’t want your charity. I can…” He swallowed, a cold something tugging at his gut. “... I can make it… alone.”

“... Well, the offer stands. I can’t make you do anything. But if you want my help, I’ll do my best. After all, I do have the ear of Praetor Jason Grace.” A giggle escaped Hazel’s lips.

“... Thanks,” Nico whispered. “... Thanks.”

She kissed his sunken cheek. “Of course. Would you like me to give you your privacy now?”

“... Yeah,” he mumbled. 

“I’ll sit right outside the door. Be warned, if I hear more hollering, I’m siccing Hedge on you.”

Nico nodded. “... Yeah. You do that.”

Hazel ruffled his hair, sending more strands falling freely over the side of the tub. “Okay. I’ll see you later.” 

He watched as she left the room. Sure enough, he heard a small thump. She’d been serious about sitting right outside the door. Nico took a deep breath, leaning closer to the faucet, turning it on again. The water ran warm and gentle over his back. He tried not to think about anything. Any thoughts in his brain would only lead him to painful places. 

He remembered how much he loved escapist fantasies as a kid. Any pretend game was a good one. And suddenly, his mind had drifted back to Bianca and her distaste for his silliness and games. And suddenly, something was hurting his chest again.

He washed himself slowly. Every small ministration stung. His arms ached before he was even halfway done washing his hair, thin as it was, it was still somehow matted and filthy. He watched as the water turned a ruddy color, filling with dirt and blood.

He drained the tub, rinsed himself, and turned off the faucet, taking a moment to lean against the wall of the tub and rest his tired arms before he had to move again, had to dry himself, had to dress, had to face Hazel and somehow crawl back up those stairs, up those millions and millions of stairs, those stairs that seemed endless when Hedge had carried him up them earlier.

He was exhausted. 

The warmth left his body too quickly. He was cold again in moments. He grabbed a towel off the nearby bar, wrapping his shoulders, leaning in. A vague softness touched his shoulders, the rough terry cloth almost pleasant against his skin. He rubbed the towel over his body and hauled himself over the side of the tub, collapsing on the floor with a thud. He yelped hoarsely as pain flared through his bruised body.

Hazel busted through the door. “Nico, what… oh, I’m so sorry!” She closed her eyes, fanning itself. 

Nico grunted. He pushed himself up on aching muscles, adjusting the towel around his nether regions. “... ‘M okay,” he grumbled. “Just… hit a bruise. Fell out of the tub.”

“Are you covered?”

Nico looked down. “... Yeah. I think so.”

Hazel opened her eyes. His legs were even more battered than his torso. “... May I see the bruise?”

Nico nodded. “On my shoulder. The back of… my shoulder.”

Hazel peered around. A massive bluish mark dominated his frail shoulder. “Oh, Nico. Why didn’t… why didn’t you ask for my help getting out of the tub?”

“... Embarrassed,” Nico croaked. 

Hazel brushed her lips over the abused purple skin. “... I’m so sorry.”

Nico yawned. He swayed, trying to find something to lean against, something to support his weight. “... Not your fault.”

Hazel put her arms around him. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Now, let’s dress you. You’re probably pretty cold.”

“... Freezing,” Nico agreed, his teeth chattering.

Hazel nodded. She grabbed the clothes off of the countertop. “Can you put on your own underwear?”

Nico grunted. “... Yeah. Help me up.”

Hazel nodded. She pulled him up and he grabbed the counter with one hand, holding up his towel with the other, his legs shaking. Hazel pushed the clean underwear into his hand and he slowly pulled them on. They were loose. Weird. He’d sworn they were his size when he’d checked the tag. Well, at least they wouldn’t aggravate any injuries. 

“... Pants,” he wheezed. “Now, please, I don’t know how much longer I can stand.”

Hazel pressed the jeans into his hand. He pulled them on with shaking hands before stumbling back, flopping down on the closed toilet. He grunted.

“You decent?”

“Mostly,” Nico grumbled.

Hazel opened her eyes. Nico was leaning against the wall. He was shirtless. His fly was unzipped and unbuttoned. Hazel sighed. “Can you… zip yourself?”

Nico looked down as if he hadn’t even noticed it was undone. “... Mm.” He fumbled awkwardly with the zipper, pulling on it, slow and sticky. It was probably a full five minutes before he was fully zipped up. 

“Now your shirt,” Hazel nagged. “Arms up.”

“... Hurts,” he murmured. “Arms… tired.”

Hazel sighed. She grabbed one fragile arm and fed it through the arm hole, then the other. His shirt fell and bagged loosely around his starved form.

“... Thanks,” Nico whispered. “... Where’s my… jacket?”

“You’re welcome, and it’s here.” Hazel pressed his jacket against his chest. “Are you sure you still want it? It’s a bit tattered.”

“... I’m good,” he murmured.

“Okay. Here, let me help you put it on.” She gently slipped his arms through the sleeves, zipping it around his body. She kissed his forehead once more. “Need helping up?”

Nico nodded. Hazel looped her arms around him. He pushed himself up, shaking. 

“... I’ll take you to Hedge. He can carry you up the stairs. And he’s waiting just down the hall,” Hazel reasoned. “I’ll get your old clothes later.”

“Throw them in the furnace,” Nico grunted.

Hazel laughed. They hauled their way out of the bathroom. “Hedge!”

“Present, cupcake!” Hedge jumped to his hooves, running over. “You need my help?”

“Just carrying him abovedecks. We can put him in a deck chair once we get there.”

Hedge nodded. He grabbed Nico and threw him over his shoulder once more. He ran abovedecks, Hazel hot on his heels. Nico was limp in his arms, unmoving. Hedge lay Nico in the nearest deck chair with a strange sort of tenderness. The sun had set, now. A cool night breeze ruffled Nico’s hair as his head lolled against the back of the chair. He opened his eyes slightly and blinked. An indescribable emotion filled his eyes, half sorrow, half relief.

Hazel sat down in a chair next to him. “... How are you feeling?”

Nico’s lip trembled. “... I missed the stars.”

She took his hand and squeezed it gently, rubbing his knuckles. “... Will you allow Hedge to sit with you for the few minutes I’ll be gone?”

Nico gave a tiny nod, letting his eyes fall closed. 

“Okay. Good. I don’t want you to be alone right now. Not in your current state. If you… gods forbid, if something terrible happens to you, I don’t want you to be alone when it happens.”

He wanted to reassure her that he would be fine, that nothing awful would happen if she were to wander off, but he was too tired to muster the words. “... Thanks,” he whispered.

He felt her lips press against his forehead. “I’m going now. I’ll be back in not five minutes, okay?” 

“... Okay.”

He heard Hazel’s footsteps resound quietly against the wooden deck as she walked off. Panic swelled in his chest, he didn’t know why, but he felt this incredible _dependency_ all of a sudden, this need for Hazel’s presence, her comfort. He hated himself for it. He took a deep breath. “... Hedge?”

Hedge grunted as he sat down. “I’m here, kid. What do you need?”

Nico blinked, opening his eyes again, focusing them on the blanket of glittering stars overhead. The Milky Way was purple in his sight. It made him want to cry. “... I don’t… feel so good.”

“Of course you don’t,” Hedge sighed. “Here, have some of this. It’s Gatorade, but it has a bit of nectar mixed in. It should help.” He held another straw to Nico’s lips.

Nico drank. It was sweet, but that only made him want to cry more. “... Thanks,” he murmured, pulling away. “You’re… too nice.”

Hedge snorted. “Don’t worry about it. It’s my job as a satyr to protect you guys.”

Nico gave a small grunt before falling into silence. It was a moment before he spoke again. “... Once I’m strong enough... to walk well on my own…”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ever touch me again.”

Hedge broke into a bleating laugh. “Okay, kid, whatever you want. I wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t for the sake of helping you out. My apologies.”

“No, I’m serious. I hate it when people touch me. Only Hazel can do it. Anything save that is vile. I can’t stand it.” He didn’t know where he got the strength to speak with such intensity. It blasted out of him like a tidal wave.

“All right, all right! I get your point, kid!” Hedge threw up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry!”

“... It’s okay,” Nico murmured, melting into the chair. 

It was only one more moment before something soft and warm was laid over him. He opened one eye. Hazel was back. She’d laid a blanket over his body, tucked it around his shoulders. She laughed quietly. “Hey, Nico. I thought you’d fallen asleep.”

“... No.” He had a sinking feeling that any sort of sleep would be catastrophic. The last thing this group needed was a screaming son of Hades. It would have been a signal beacon to any monster within a ten mile radius.

“You should rest,” Hazel murmured. “You’re exhausted.”

He took a breath. “... I can’t. Not now. I feel… not now. My mind can’t… process.”

“May I…” Hazel gestured to the chair Hedge was sitting in.

“Yeah, yeah, take my seat. He’s got a drink here if he’s thirsty.” Hedge got up, wandering belowdecks. 

Hazel sat down next to Nico. “You can’t process what you’ve been through, can you?”

He shook his head.

Hazel pushed her chair closer to him, taking his hand. “... I hope you find the time and space you need to process what you’ve been through. I can’t… I can’t ask for more than that for you.”

Nico squeezed her hand, tighter than he thought he could manage. “... I can’t ask for more than that… for myself, either.”


	126. Caleo- Devil's Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo, unfortunately, sees a familiar face. It goes... interestingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request fill for HeroofOlympus24, who requested Leo confronting his Aunt Rosa.
> 
> Warnings for fairly severe verbal abuse, grief, crying. Also, I know Aunt Rosa is from Texas. It's just that she kind of needed to be in Indianapolis here so that the Waystation could be involved. So we'll just say she was there on business.

“And _who_ are you again?” the squinty-eyed Hispanic woman asked.

Leo trembled, his hands balled into fists. “... You… you know who I am.” His voice broke.  
“You know exactly who I am, I’m your nephew, I’m the kid you threw away.” A sob choked out of his throat. The dirty Indianapolis alleyway he’d cornered her in suddenly seemed much, much too open, too exposed. “Aunt Rosa.”

She squinted at him further. “... I suppose it was wishful thinking when I assumed you were dead.”

Leo felt tears begin to track down his cheeks. “Because I’m the Devil, right? Look me in the eyes, auntie! Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m the Devil!” 

She looked him in the eyes. “You killed your own mother and you’re taking that tone with me?”

Her words knocked all the wind out of Leo’s chest. He gasped slightly. “... It was an accident,” he whispered,

“They should have put you away for life,” she hissed. “Instead, you got freedom. No punishment at all. There was no justice for my sister. How does that feel, _el diablo?_ Are you even capable of feeling?”

Leo sniffled. He wanted to run. Coming into this alleyway had been such a mistake. He should have just run away. He should have turned in the opposite direction and ran. “... I… I’m so sorry, I… I didn’t mean to hurt anyone… it was a mistake… I didn’t mean to…”

“That’s what they all say,” she snapped. “Every devil thinks they’re an angel. Now, why am I here? Why are you here? Are you going to burn me too?”

Leo couldn’t breathe. He silently shook his head. 

“... I don’t trust you,” she snapped. “But I must admit, it is so _you_ of you to blame _me_ for wanting to keep myself and my family safe.”

“... Sorry,” he managed, gasping slightly, his voice breaking. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.” She turned away. “I’m leaving. I don’t need to sit here and see the tears of a _mother-killer_ such as yourself.”

Leo watched numbly as she retreated out the other end of the alley. Tears poured over his cheeks. His legs felt like jelly. _After I saved the whole world you lived in, after everything I’ve done… none of it matters. I’m a murderer. Nothing will change that._ He sat down against the wall of the alley as his chest began to heave. _Mama, mama, I’m so… I’m so sorry, you have no idea, I didn’t want to hurt you, I loved you so much, I really did…_ He gasped violently. “... Sorry,” he whispered. “... I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry…”

A cold drop hit the back of his neck. He looked up. The sky was slate gray. It was beginning to rain. _Good. I can’t burn anyone if I’m soaked._ He whimpered again. A deep, rotten, spreading ache burned through his chest. Her words echoed through his mind, _mother-killer… devil… demon… el diablo… will you burn me too… no justice… are you even capable of feeling… wish you were dead…_

He felt something nudge his arm. He looked up. A pair of glowing red eyes met his own. “... Festus,” he croaked. 

Festus moved closer, laying his head in Leo’s lap. _What’s going on?_

Leo shook his head. He leaned his head against Festus’s. “... Nothin’. None of your concern. I’m good.”

 _You’re crying._ Festus was matter-of-fact as always. _Why?_

“... Nothing too important. Just… bad memories.” Leo took a deep breath. “... It really hurts sometimes.”

Festus exhaled warmth over Leo’s belly. _… I’m sorry._

“Not your fault.” Leo gently pet over the smooth warm bronze of Festus’s cheek. “Never your fault.”

Something draped across his back. He looked up. Festus had draped a wing over him, warming him, protecting him from the rain. He’d snuggled a little closer, as well, huddling around him. Festus’s bronze casing was warm to the touch. Leo cuddled against it, letting his tears fall in quiet sobs and jerks. He shivered.

Festus clicked and whirred softly, nonsensically. _… We should get you someplace warm._

“No,” Leo sniffled. “I… I like being cold.”

 _I know you well enough by now to know that that isn’t true,_ Festus replied. _You hate being cold._

“... I… it’s… I can’t hurt anyone if I’m too cold to… to burst into flames,” he sniffled. “That’s why I like being cold. Takes the… the evil out of me.”

_You mean that same evil that fixed me? That brought me back to intelligence and sanity? Multiple times? That same evil that came directly from the blood of a major deity?_

A quiet sob escaped Leo. “... I’m sorry.”

 _Let’s go for a fly. I think it’ll be good for you. We can get up over the clouds where it won’t be too rainy._ Festus nuzzled Leo’s tummy. 

“... Not over the clouds. Humans can’t breathe very well at that altitude, remember?”

Festus whirred. It sounded like laughter. _My apologies. Yeah, we won’t go that high. I just don’t… I don’t want you to be wet and cold._

Leo pressed a soft kiss to Festus’s head. “... Love you,” he murmured. “You’re the sweetest thing, Festus. You’re… you’re every-thing to me.” His voice came interrupted by his sobs.

_You’re everything to me too, Leo. Now get on and get comfy. We’re going for a ride._

Leo stood up. He was a little shaky, holding Festus for support. _Evil,_ her voice whispered in his ear. _Devil-child. El Diablo._ He sniffled slightly and crawled into the backseat, lying down, curling up. The rain fell gently on his side. It was cold, but not fully unpleasant. Festus was warm. He was always warm. Leo couldn’t help but enjoy it.

_You settled?_

Leo nodded. “Yeah. I’m… I’m okay.”

_Good. I’ll be real gentle, I promise._

Leo nodded again. His heart twisted in his chest, aching and throbbing, tears trickling over the bridge of his nose, over his temple. They dripped gently on the leather seats, mixing with the rain and disappearing. He couldn’t make them stop. He was tired, exhausted, sick of crying and sick of being hated and sick of hating himself. Rain wet his skin. He wanted it. He wanted to be soaked in it. He wanted to be soaked beyond combustion. _… I was doing so well. I hadn’t had these feelings to this degree in years. It’s all back now, I guess. All that old pain. All the shit that Jake and Nyssa and Harley had to help me with._

_Fuck all of this._

He felt Festus take off beneath him. A cool breeze traced over his shoulder, he was tilted back a bit, leaning against his seat. From where he was curled up, it almost felt like being submerged, free-floating. He gasped a little bit, looking up. Cold rain ran on his cheeks, soothing. He took a deep, shaky breath. “... Festus?”

_Yes?_

“... Do you think…” His voice broke and his breath hitched. He wiped his eyes on his wet sleeve. “... Do you think I’m evil?”

_You’re one of the least evil guys I’ve ever met. Truthfully._

Leo rolled over and pressed his face into the back of the seat. “... She said… she said I was evil, though.”

_Who’s ‘she?’_

Something bubbled up from Leo’s heart, something old and wobbly and disgusting. “My… my auntie.”

_Did this broad even know you?_

“... Well enough,” Leo whispered, hugging himself. “She knew me well enough.”

_I resent that. If she’d known you, she’d have seen the goodness you have in your heart._

Leo choked on a sob. “But… but… Festus, I…” He clawed at his arms, trying to resist the urge to hit the back of the seat. “I killed my fucking mother, Festus! I fucking killed her! She died because… because I combusted and… and couldn’t control it! Festus, I… I… I…” He cried out, twisting his body in some attempt to soothe himself.

_… You said you couldn’t control it? The fire?_

“... I couldn’t, I was… I was just too scared, Gaia, she had… she had… she was gonna kill me, I was…”

 _That’s Gaia’s fault, not yours,_ Festus responded. _You did nothing wrong. You were just a scared little kid. You couldn’t have been expected to do anything._

Leo wiped his eyes. “That’s not what my family said.”

Festus was quiet for a long time. Leo studied the soft flaps of his wings, the whirr of machinery as it levitated him through the sky. It reminded him of the boiler room of the Argo II. Jason’s face flashed across his mind, smiling kindly. The face of a best friend. The face of someone that had never stopped looking for him. 

The face of someone he’d never see again.

He sobbed softly. Figures Jason would die and he would be forced to live. Maybe he shouldn’t have sought the physician’s cure. Maybe he should have let himself perish. 

_Don’t think that way,_ Festus creaked, as if he could read Leo’s mind. _Calypso needed you. It’s a good thing you’re alive._

Leo sniffled. “How did you…”

_You were tapping your thoughts on the seat. Morse code._

“... Thanks, buddy,” Leo mumbled, tears dotting the leather seat.

_And as for your family, fuck them. If they hate you, that’s their problem. Not yours. You’re a good person. You fixed me even though they all thought I was a monster. You saw the good in me, I’m seeing the good in you._

“... I love you so, so much,” Leo whispered, tapping the same against the leather seat. “You’re my best friend. I don’t have… I don’t have anyone else, now. Jason is dead. It hurts too much to talk to Piper now. Calypso is… I mean, she’s there, but it’s… it’s just _different,_ you know? I love her, but sometimes it’s… it’s a very difficult feeling. If I’d known being in a relationship would be this difficult, I don’t know if I’d want to be in one so bad.”

_Do you not love her anymore?_

“No, she’s kind and beautiful and I care for her deeply. I just… sometimes it hurts.” He huddled deeper into the seat. “Honestly, everything kind of hurts now. Everything that’s ever happened hurts.”

_… I’m sorry. I don’t know how to help you. I think it’ll be good for you to go back to the Waystation. You’ll be distracted, and Calypso will be there. Maybe she can help more than I can._

Leo gave a tiny nod.

  
  
  


A few moments later, Leo felt the sensation of descent. He heard the door open, felt Festus swooping into the garage. He heard the scrape of Festus’s nails against the cement floor. He sat up, dizzily, groggily. His head ached. One of his sinuses was full, mucus had run over half of his face. The other was so dry it felt like it was bleeding. He wiped his face on his sleeve. He’d never been that clean of a guy anyway.

Festus lay down. Leo yawned. “Thanks, buddy,” he tried, rolling out of the seat. He stumbled a few feet. He intended to make a beeline for the door, sneak back to his room and collapse into bed. He didn’t want to try and explain how he was feeling now to anyone, or why he was feeling it. It would be easier just to collapse into bed, cry himself to sleep and then wake up feeling marginally better.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t that lucky. Festus called after him, _give me a hug?_

Leo turned around. “... Yeah, sure, buddy.” He wobbled back and sat down next to Festus, hugging his neck. 

Festus draped his wings over Leo’s shoulders, wrapping his front legs around Leo’s body. Leo closed his eyes. His head spun. He rested his head against Festus, soaking up the warmth of the bronze. He hadn’t even realized he was cold until he was out of the rain. He sniffled slightly.

Footsteps echoed behind them. “What’re you doing in my… oh, Leo. Welcome home.” Jo’s reassuring voice was only too loud in the massive garage. 

Leo raised his head only enough to look up at Jo. He wiped his eyes. “Hey. Yeah, thanks. I might…” He put his head down. “... I might go to bed.”

Jo cocked her head. “So early? But you’ll miss dinner!”

“You mean I’ll miss chores?”

There was a brief stare-off. Finally, Jo sighed. “Do what you do, I suppose. I won’t pry further. I’ll go inform Calypso you’re home.”

Leo nodded. He closed his eyes again, relaxing into Festus’s warm side. 

“And you should change your clothes. You’re soaked and dirty. It’s not good for you to sit all day in cold, wet clothes,” Jo nagged.

Leo felt his eyes prickle. _Why are you protecting a devil-child like me?_ He managed a tiny nod. 

He heard Jo retreat. He sighed, running his hand absently over Festus’s nurturing claw. “... You’re a good friend, buddy.”

_You’re even better, buddy._

  
  
  


It was a few minutes before Leo was able to pull away. He stood up, wiping his eyes and nose on his shirtsleeve. “... I’m gonna go,” he managed. 

_Where are you going?_

“... Don’t know yet. Gonna go shower, I guess. Clean up. Then I guess I’ll just… sleep. I don’t know.” Leo awkwardly scuffed his foot on the floor. 

_Do you want to come back here?_

Leo felt more tears come to his eyes. “... You’re too kind. I… I might. I’ll sleep against you if you really want me here, but I’ll be okay if you don’t.”

_I want you to do whatever would make you happy._

Leo took a deep breath. “... O… Okay. I… I’ll see you later, buddy.”

_See you later, Leo._

Leo floated zombielike through the halls of the Waystation, trying to keep his head down, trying to keep anyone else from looking at him. He’d almost reached his room when a warm something touched his shoulder. He looked up. Soft almond-shaped eyes met his. “Babe?”

“... Cal.” He didn’t realize how hoarse his voice sounded until he spoke. He forced a grin, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Got caught in the rain a bit. Festus had to come and bail me out.”

“I can see that. I’m just curious about… you were dragging your feet pretty badly. Did something happen?”

Leo shrugged. “It’s… not important. How are you?”

“I’m okay. I was just worried that you’re _not_ okay,” Calypso nagged. “You look like someone put an anvil on your back. I mean, really.”

Leo looked down. “It’s just some dumb stuff from the past. No biggie.” 

“Is that why you’re red-eyed and sniffly?” Calypso’s plush pink lips curved into a small smile, but her eyes were sad. “Just some dumb stuff from the past?”

Leo managed a nod. He bit his lip, trying to keep in the tears. 

Calypso gave a small chuckle. “C’mere, babe.” She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close against her.

Leo’s eyes stung. Tears poured down his cheeks and he pressed hard into Calypso’s body, needing the warmth, that _human_ warmth, that he didn’t deserve. “... ‘M so sorry,” Leo hiccuped, nuzzling her shirt, trying to dry his tears. “... ‘M so sorry, Cal, I… I don’t… it… Cal, it _hurts,_ it hurts, and I don’t… I can’t…”

Calypso rubbed soothing circles on his back. “You can’t stop it?” 

“I deserve it,” Leo sobbed. “I deserve every inch, every second of it. I’m… I’m just… too destructive, Cal.”

“I’ve only ever seen you fix things, but okay,” Calypso shrugged, her breath warm against his cheek.

“No, I mean… my fire.”

“Did you accidentally burn a building down or something? Is that why you came back so messed up?”

Leo had a feeling that, if he told the truth, it would be accompanied by vomit and tears. “... No.” 

Calypso nodded. “Didn’t think you would. You’re not the type to hurt anyone. You’ve got a soft heart, Leo. I mean, anyone who puts their friends above themselves can’t be all bad, can they?”

Leo sniffled. “... I guess so.”

“Exactly.” Calypso pulled away slightly, wiping the tears off of his cheeks with gentle fingers. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing seriously wrong with your heart. You’re not the type of man who does horrible things.”

 _I am. I am. I killed my mother. I killed my own mother._ “... Thanks,” he whispered. 

Calypso smiled. She put her soft, full lips over his, tender and comforting. “You’re welcome.”

He took a deep breath of her sweet scent, letting it fill his chest. “... Love you, Cal.”

They lingered against each other for a moment. Finally, Leo pulled away. Calypso was smiling down at him gently. “Go shower, babe.”

Leo blushed. “Do I really smell that bad?”

“Yes. You do.” Calypso pinched him gently. “You smell like you’ve mildewed.”

Leo rolled his eyes dramatically. “Fine, fine, I’ll shower. Only if afterwards we can sneak off to the roof and make out.” He didn’t know what exactly had changed his mind, but now he needed her closeness, her kindness. Just to remind himself that he was loved.

Calypso snorted before smirking at him. “I suppose I can allow that.”

Leo grinned, but it still didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Thanks, Cal. I… I needed that.”

Caleo gave him her softest smile. “Of course. Now go shower. You _really_ need it.”

Leo’s heart melted. “Will do, Cal.”


	127. Some Jasiper, Frazel, Percabeth-How Loved He Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's shortly after BOO. The remaining six sit down to write a letter to Leo's one remaining family member.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I received a request for “the seven confronting Aunt Rosa” from HeroofOlympus24. I decided to do it via letters because doing it face-to-face may end badly, and I didn’t want to become “that fic writer” who writes revenge fantasy fics.  
> Anyway, this takes place shortly after BOO. It’s right after Percy and his mom were reunited, but before the Romans left for Camp Jupiter. 
> 
> Warnings for mentions of child abuse, mentions of death, abuse of a dead person's name. Grief.

_Dear Mrs. Rosa Valdez,_

_I’m writing this to inform you that your nephew, Leo Valdez, has died._

_I_ _’m aware you weren’t the fondest of him. I do not understand where your perspective comes from. Leo was a good man. He had a big heart. He would have done anything for anyone._

_My name is Jason. I’m from California. I was Leo’s closest friend. He and I met when we were in the same boarding school out in Arizona. I had no other friends at the time. Leo was kind to me. He was kind to me when no one else was. He was always full of jokes, too. He made me laugh all the time. He had an infectious sense of humor. He could joke his way out of anything. I don’t have much to laugh about in my life, so his presence, his humor, his fire and his jokes and his light, meant more to me than anything._

_He was good with his hands. He could fix anything. He made the best paper airplanes you could ever imagine. If you put any little bits of anything in his hands, he could make something out of it that worked. I remember he was super into drones. He made one that looked and flew like a dragon. It breathed fire, too. He wanted to sell it for some quick buck. Unfortunately, he never got the chance._

_I don’t have much more to write here. I’m not the most eloquent man around. I’m deep in my grief. Losing him felt like losing one of my limbs. And I know you don’t care. I know you despise him. I know that reading his best friend’s little vent note won’t change anything. But… I felt like I had to write you. On Leo’s behalf, and the behalf of the rest of our friends, who are sitting beside me as I write this letter. Just to tell you that your hatred of Leo Valdez was, in my opinion, unjustified._

_Signed,_

_Jason Grace._

  
  
  


_Jason Grace,_

_I received your letter. I had not known he had died._

_My hatred for my nephew is perfectly justified. He started a warehouse fire that led to the death of my sister, his mother. Regardless of whether or not he intended for his little ‘joke’ of arson to get as out of control as it did, in my mind, he still killed her. And if you think losing a best friend is painful, imagine losing a sister._

_Sincerely,_

_Rosa Valdez._

Piper spoke first.

That was fitting. Piper always spoke first. She was the speaker of the group ever since the incident underneath Athens. “... He wouldn’t do that,” she insisted. “It would have had to be an accident. He must have lost control or… or…” She takes a deep breath, wiping her eyes. “It had to have been a mistake.”

Jason swallowed back the sobs that choked at his throat. He balled his fists in the grass. “... Yeah. Leo wouldn’t hurt a fly.” His voice cracked embarrassingly, and he braced himself for the wave of teasing that would inevitably come his way, but when he looked up, all faces were soft and sympathetic. The rest of the Seven--the Six?-- had gathered around. Frank had offered to read. He’d offered to write, too, but Jason had refused, saying he’d do it himself. He didn’t know why he had to do it, but he did. 

Piper rubbed his shoulder in a comforting manner. “... So… guys. Do we… what do we write back?”

“Nothing. We leave it be. This is Valdez family drama. We shouldn’t intervene unless there’s someone in danger,” Frank sighed. “And look, Leo’s dead. He’s not in any danger right now. Not anymore.”

Annabeth took a deep breath. She grabbed Percy’s hand, rubbing her thumb over his knuckle. “... I… he must have been… miserable. After his mother died. Being hated by someone in his own family _and…_ all that other stuff?” She sniffled, wiping her eyes. “Ugh. Sorry.”

Hazel leaned against Frank, a few of her own unapologetic tears streaming over her cheeks. “... Yeah,” she whispered. “I… I don’t even know how to process all of this. Or any of it, really. But I know it wasn’t purposeful. I know it wasn’t his fault.”

Frank wiped them away gently, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. “I know. It’s… gods. If I’d known Valdez had been through what he’d been through, that guilt, maybe I wouldn’t have taken as many of the dickish things he said to me to heart.”

“... I bet it was a coping mechanism,” Hazel managed. “All that cockiness, the grandstanding, the teasing, the jokes. I bet it was all… all just to keep from… from breaking down.” She buried her face in Frank’s shoulder, sobs breaking from her throat.

Frank rubbed her back. He closed his eyes. “... It’s a fucking tragedy.” His voice cracked. “And I mean that. It’s terrible.”

Annabeth squeezed Percy’s hand so tightly his long, bony fingers turned purple. “... They don’t call it a Greek tragedy for nothing, Frank. I know Romans were never as much into that, but the Greek campers still hold that old tradition of…” Her voice cracked. “... of pain.”

Percy held out his arms. Annabeth leaned against him. He lay his arms around her waist, burying his face in her shoulder. She wiggled so they were in a full embrace and buried her face in his shoulder. 

Jason took a deep breath. Something was stinging in his core. His eyes watered. “... I just wished… he’d have been more open about this. I could have… I could have comforted him a bit… made him feel less hated… made it feel like it wasn’t his fault…” His voice broke. “Sorry, guys. Didn’t… didn’t mean to.”

“It’s all right, man,” Frank reassured. Percy reached out and silently patted his shoulder.

Piper kissed him. She leaned against him. “I know,” she whispered. “I wish the same.”

He put his arms around her, needing the support of another human body against his. “... Next time… I’ll be more insistent. I’ll… I won’t let my friends suffer in silence anymore. I’ll make sure I know if they’re troubled. So I… so I can help.”

Piper put her hands on his arm. “That’s a beautiful thought, Jason. You’re a good friend.”

Jason took a deep breath. Her presence hadn’t alleviated the sting in his chest any. He gently shook her off, wiping his eyes. “... I need to take a walk,” he murmured. “I need… I need some time to think.”

“To cry?” Piper asked.

“No comment.” He stood up, summoning the winds, flying away. He didn’t know where he was going. He just had to get somewhere where he could cry without fear of judgement. He loved Piper, but showing her that aching, soft part of himself would just be too humiliating. If he was going to cry, he needed to do it alone.

He wound up on the roof of the Big House. He crossed his legs, leaning his head into his hands. His eyes stung hotly, and he didn’t bother to stifle it this time. He let his tears fall freely, dotting his jeans. The tears felt like a salve on his wounds. It was almost too pleasant to cry. _… I’m sorry, Leo. I know you can’t hear me, but I am. I’m so sorry. I would have done anything for you._

_I hope you knew that._

  
  
  


The remaining five were silent except for Hazel’s sobs.

“... I expected more tears out of you,” Annabeth murmured, glancing up from Percy’s shoulder in Piper’s direction. 

Piper took a deep breath. “I… I cried a lot last night. Jason and I. I’m just… I’m kind of numb now, I guess. Either way, I can’t… I can’t summon any tears right now.”

“... I guess I understand that,” Annabeth managed. “Or… or I’ve been there before.”

“... I should go find Jason,” Piper sighed. “It hurts to imagine him crying alone.”

“Tell him I’m here for him if he needs,” Percy responded. His voice was rough. It was the first thing he’d said all day. 

Piper nodded. “Will do.” She got up, walking away in the same direction Jason flew.

Percy disentangled from Annabeth’s embrace, putting a hand on Hazel’s back. “... Is there anything I can do?”

“Not… not unless you can bring him back,” she sniffled. “... And… Piper said she can’t cry… I don’t know why that is. We weren’t as close as Piper and he and I… I still can’t stop crying. It’s just… he died thinking… thinking he wasn’t loved, thinking he wasn’t… cared for. I… I’ve _been_ there, Percy, I don’t…” Her voice broke. “‘Urts.”

Percy rubbed circles on her back. “I think he knew you cared for him. Piper and Jason, too. I think he knew he had a good group of friends.” He took a deep breath. “He died to save us all. All his family. All his friends. And I’ve been there. Fortunately, I never had to die. But I’ve been in you-or-friends situations. I can’t blame Valdez for what he did and that’s why.”

“What Percy’s trying to say is that Leo loved us all. He died to save us,” Annabeth sighed.

Hazel wiped her eyes. “... I just hope he knew how loved he was.”

Annabeth nodded. “Yeah. Me too. I think we all hope that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Jasiper is just too painful after TBM. I don't really think I want to write it anymore.


	128. Percabeth, Frazel, mentioned Caleo, Charlena, past Jasiper-Eternal Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy just died.  
> It was a peaceful death. He died an old man with his kids by his side. And they said he could go to Elysium and everything! But he's still dead. And that comes with a lot of reunions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HeroofOlympus24 requested the Seven reuniting in Elysium. It turned out Percy-centric. Piper's not here, but she is mentioned. Also, Beckendorf wrote himself into this and I'm not sorry.

Wild cries of joy weren’t exactly uncommon in the Elysian fields. But the shouts that echoed on the day Percy finally arrived were nearly deafening.

Annabeth saw him first. She hollered and ran for him, grabbing him in a tackle-hug. All she could think of was how  _ beautiful  _ he looked, sweet and restored. How much she  _ needed  _ him, like a drug, gentle in her body, in her nose, over her lips. The connection felt like a hit, he dripped into her veins and restored her bit-by-bit. He was warm and soft as she had remembered. When she’d last seen him, he’d been a fading old man, barely able to drag himself to her bedside to hold her in her final moments. Even so, his sea-green eyes had been as bright and gorgeous as ever.

But now he was young again. He looked something like he had as a twenty-something, but healthier. She lifted her head to study him closer, their noses touching. His eyes were still the same.

Annabeth loved him for that.

“... How are the kids?” were the first words out of her mouth.

“They’re… well, grieving, but they’ll be okay.” Percy hauled himself into a sitting position, taking Annabeth in a gentle embrace. “I recovered after… after Mom, remember?”

Annabeth patted his back. She remembered how hard Percy had cried after his mom had died. She had been eighty-three, not a bad age to die, but it had shattered Percy nonetheless. “You did. You did very well.” She planted a kiss on his lips, long and soft. His lips were the same as always, slightly chapped and gentle. “... Love you,” she whispered.

“Love you too,” Percy whispered. “Is Mom here? Can I see her?”

“She is. I mean,  _ everybody’s  _ here, Percy. Lee. Silena. Castor and Pollux. Beckendorf. Michael. Jason. Leo. Frank. Hazel. Piper. Paul. Will and Nico too, but…”

“But what?”

“But Nico weaseled Hades into giving Will and him a room in his palace. They don’t stay here.”

Percy laughed. “Of course he did.” He took another moment to hold her, rub her back, enjoy the way she felt beneath his hands. It had only been a few months, but it had felt like years. She was young again, gorgeous, pure, and it was sweet.

A voice broke the silence. “You two really haven’t changed.”

Percy looked up. His breath hitched. His eyes fell on a soft smile, interrupted only by a small scar on the right side of the lip. He gently set Annabeth aside before leaping for the figure. “Jason!” 

Jason held out his arms. He took Percy against him, their arms wrapping each other like pythons, crushing their bodies together. Breathy sobs broke from both boys, a lifetime of separation blasting forth in a moment of pure grief. Jason was warm and human, even in death, he still gave the best hugs. “You’re here!”

Percy let himself linger against Jason’s chest for a moment. He couldn’t pull away yet, not now, not after decades of not being able to feel his friend’s arms around him, that warmth, that comfort. “Yeah. After what, seventy years?”

“It has been a while.” Jason laughed wetly. “I wasn’t… Time gets a little funky down here. First thing you learn is that time just isn’t as important when you’re dead.”

Percy sighed, forcing himself to pull away. He looked up into Jason’s pale blue eyes. “... I guess so.” He wiped his own eyes, turning back to Annabeth, extending a hand to her. She took his hand and stood up.

“Did you keep your promise to me?” Jason asked, studying him and Annabeth.

Percy cocked his head. “What promise?”

“You know. The one where you get married and have kids and are happy.”  
Percy smiled, his cheeks warming. “Yeah, we did! Married for over sixty years and three kids.”

Jason grinned, but there was sadness behind his eyes. “I’m too happy for you, bro.”

Percy laughed. “And I hope it’s a really long time before I see any of them. You know, long, happy lives and all.”

Jason gave a nod. “Yeah, I’m… I’m still trying to find someone. Despite having every woman who’s ever died at my disposal, none of them seem to want me.”

“Oh, come on, bro,” Percy sighed. “You’re a good guy. Handsome. You’ll find somebody, I promise.”

“Yeah, no,” Annabeth cut in. “It shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

Jason gave a small, hopeful smile. “I hope so too. Speaking of romance, Piper’s here too. She and I don’t  _ talk,  _ per se, because we’re both petty and we’d rather bury our problems for decades rather than actually talk about the past, but you can see her later if you want.”

Percy laughed. “Yeah. I’ll go see her later. But she is okay, right?”

Jason shrugged. “Think so. I think she found another guy.”

“Well, that’s good for her, I guess,” Annabeth sighed. 

Jason’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah. It’s real nice that she’s happy with someone else.”

Annabeth put her arm around Jason’s waist. “Sorry, man. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I was just… trying to look on the bright side, I suppose.”

Jason took a breath. “Yeah. That’s sweet of you. I shouldn’t be jealous, it’s just that… I wanted marriage and love and happiness too, you know?”

Percy put a hand on his shoulder. “Of course, man. I’m sorry. I’ll… I can wingman for you if you want.”

Jason smiled gratefully in Percy’s direction. “Thanks, bro. It means a lot.”

Percy ruffled Jason’s hair. “No problem.”

“Also, why the fuck are we the same height now? I was always taller than you.”

Percy laughed, but once again, there was sadness in his gaze. “I don’t know, bro. Year eighteen of my life was nice to me.”

“Look at this bastard who reached eighteen,” Jason joked.

Percy swatted his head. “Shut up.”

“Changing the subject before this turns into a slapfight,” Annabeth broke in. “Where’s Leo? I know he’s down here.”

“With a brother of his,” Jason assured. “I think the name is Charles or Charlie or something?”

Percy’s eyes widened. “Beckendorf?”

“Yeah, him.”

Percy closed his eyes. “I… I need to speak to that guy. I… I owe him a… where is he?”

“I can take you to where they are. They’re building a drone or something,” Jason shrugged. 

“I don’t care what they’re doing. I need to talk to him,” Percy insisted. 

“Okay, okay, let’s go.” Jason beckoned Percy away, pointing Percy over a hill. He took Annabeth’s hand, gripping tightly.

Annabeth noticed. “Hey, I’m sure he doesn’t blame you. You did your best. I know he’s not mad.”

Percy only squeezed her hand as a reply. 

  
  


It was a moment before they reached a tree under a small hill. Leo and Beckendorf sat across from each other, laughing and joking. Percy’s heart ached at how  _ happy  _ Beckendorf looked, smiling as Leo amused him. Leo looked as he had when he’d returned from saving Calypso, young, slender and willowy, a smirk curving his lips. Jason gave a shout and the two looked up. Beckendorf stood up, no longer smiling, and crossed over to Percy. Percy’s legs shook.

“I’m sorry,” Percy blurted as soon as Beckendorf was in front of him.

“Why?” Beckendorf cocked his head, looking honestly confused.

“Because. We were on a ship. I could have… I could have saved you.” Percy’s voice broke.

Beckendorf clamped a firm hand on Percy’s shoulder. “Don’t fret it. The mission went totally haywire. It wasn’t anything you could have predicted. I’m not mad.”

Percy sniffled. “... I should have saved you.”

“Don’t start crying on me. It was nothing you could have done. Besides, I’m happy here. Silena’s with me. Jake and Leo and Nyssa are here too. I’ve got more company than I know what to do with. I’m not even a social guy.” He laughed awkwardly. “Anyway, man, don’t fret it. You did your best. You can’t blame yourself for when the world demands more than what you can give.”

Percy looked down, studying the soft-looking grass as it waved in the breeze. It looked safe. He wanted to curl up in it and sleep. There was no sun in Elysium, but the entire place emitted a soothing light. It made Percy heavy and warm, like when he’d taken Annabeth to Montauk for the first time and they’d spent a whole day curled up asleep in the sand together. That was a sweet memory.

He cleared his throat, forcing his mind back to the present. “... Thank you. I mean that. Thank you so much.”

Beckendorf gave Percy a half-grin. “It’s cool.” He stretched. “Anyway, as I said, I’m happy. Silena and I are together. We’re good.”

“Speaking of her, where is she?”

“With Clarisse. Having some private time.”

Percy laughed. “Well, I know she’s gotta be happy about that.”

“She is,” Beckendorf nodded. “Couldn’t be happier about it. By the way, she was overjoyed when she heard that you and Annabeth had hooked up. She couldn’t have been more over the moon about it.”   
Percy blushed. He glanced over at Annabeth, who was equally red. “... Thanks, I guess. I was… I was over the moon when she hooked up with me too.”

Beckendorf snorted. “Well, I’m glad you’re happy.”

_ “Happy?”  _ Leo’s voice came shrill from behind. “They had, like, a dozen kids together!”

“We had three,” Percy sighed. “That’s literally only a quarter of a dozen.”

“It’s a lot,” Leo pouted. “That’s a lot of children.”

“Not really,” Percy shrugged.

“That’s only because you’re good with little kids,” Beckendorf cut in. “You need to like kids to raise them easily.”

Percy smiled up at Beckendorf, his eyes as wide and innocent as a puppy’s. “You give good advice. I should have told you that a long time ago, but I didn’t.”

Beckendorf grumbled, but his lips were curved up. “Thanks, bud.” He ruffled Percy’s hair with a strong hand. “Glad to know my advice has your approval.”

Percy laughed. “No problem.” 

“We should tell Frank and Hazel,” Leo cut in, bouncing up and down on his toes. “They’ve been asking about you guys for a while.”

Beckendorf gave Leo a half-smile. “Yeah, little guy, you go do that.”

Leo scowled. “Don’t call me little guy.”

“No prob, little guy.”

Leo flipped him off. “Come on, guys. Frank and Hazel will be overjoyed.”

Percy waved his hand at him. “Give me a moment.” He leaned in towards Beckendorf, speaking in a low voice. “Hey, man, can I ask you a favor? I know I don’t deserve it, but…”

“It’s cool, bud. I don’t care. What’s the favor?”

“Can you help Jason get a girlfriend? Any girlfriend? Preferably not an Aphrodite kid, but still. Anyone. Like, you’re the most adept at… women, so I figured…”

“Ah, yes, that’s me. Good at women,” Beckendorf snorted. “But sure, I’ll get blondy here a girl. I’ll manage it.”

“Thanks, man, it means a lot. To both of us,” Percy nodded. 

“No problem, man.” Beckendorf gave a nod. “Jas, can we take a second? To talk?”

Jason blinked. “I… yeah, sure. Leo, will you go with Percy and Annabeth?”

Leo nodded. “Will do. Come on, guys.”

Percy put his arm around Annabeth’s waist, nodding, pulling her along gently. She put her arm around his waist and they chased Leo across the fields. As Percy looked around some more, he realized why Annabeth would describe lovely things as being  _ Elysian.  _ This entire place radiated comfort and peace. It almost made Percy want to weep. He’d started feeling the fragility when he’d heard Beckendorf’s name, and now it had blossomed to a nearly explosive point. He realized, with a sudden ache, that he’d never felt as comfortable and at peace then he did here. He was so glad that his mother had seen this place before him. She deserved this so, so much more than he did.

He took a deep breath, focusing on the feeling of Annabeth’s body against his, the warmth. He cleared his throat slightly. “... After this, Annabeth, will you take me to where you’ve been staying?”

Annabeth studied his face. She recognized the familiar look of  _ help me before I cry  _ written on his face. She’d seen it more times than she cared to remember. “Do you need to go now?”

Percy shook his head. “No, I’m okay. But after Frank and Hazel… I think I might need to rest.”

Annabeth gave his body a comforting squeeze. “Of course. I’ll take you straight home after them. I understand, it’s a bit overwhelming. We can take it as slow as we need.”

Percy closed his eyes, leaning slightly against her. He nodded.

  
  


It was only another moment before they arrived at a simple house set amid a few beds of asphodel flowers.  _ Ironic.  _ Leo knocked on the door and Hazel opened, dressed in a jean jacket, not the praetor’s robes she’d worn in life. She, too, looked young and restored. “Leo!” she smiled. “How are you?”

“Good! By the way, we have a surprise for you.” He grabbed Percy and shoved him at Hazel. Annabeth let go so she wouldn’t fall.

Hazel squealed. She grabbed Percy in a hug. “Percy! It feels like it’s been forever!”

Percy hugged back, taking a deep breath. “It’s only been a few years. Not forever.”

“How are Samuel and Emily, by the way? Are they holding up all right?”

Percy patted her back, pulling away. “Think so. They’re not… well, they’d rather you be there with them, but they’re alive, and that’s what matters, I guess.”

Hazel nodded. “I’m waiting for them. I hope they know that.”

Percy smiled. “You’re a good mom. Also, asphodel? Really?” He gestured to the flower beds.

Hazel laughed. “I’ve tried to pull them. They only grow back. I don’t think Proserpina likes me that much.”

Percy cocked his head. “Proserpina?”

“Persephone,” Annabeth cut in.

Percy nodded. “Right, I knew that. Anyway, where’s Frank?”

Hazel chuckled. “He’s in our living room. Here, come in.” 

Leo held up one hand. “I’m gonna go back to Beckendorf now. He and I were hanging out. Bye, Percy, Annabeth. I’ll see you all later.”

Hazel nodded. “Bye, Leo. Take care of yourself. Tell Calypso I said hi.”

“Will do.” Leo broke into a sprint, disappearing through the fields.

Percy and Annabeth followed Hazel inside. “Is it still called a living room if you’re dead?”

Hazel sighed. “Oh, Percy.”

Annabeth kissed his cheek. “I love you, Seaweed Brain.”

“Is that Percy?” Frank appeared in a doorway right in front of them, tall and broad-shouldered, like he had in his mid-twenties. He grinned. “Oh, hey, man!” He held out his arms. “Bring it in, Percy, I’ve missed you.”

Percy flopped against his chest. Frank was taller than him. Frank was a mountain of a man. Even when he had been old and declining, he was still strong as an ox and just as large. Mars’s blessing didn’t let up just because one was in his eighties. Percy buried his face in Frank’s shoulder as Frank wrapped his arms around his back. Frank patted Percy’s back with one strong hand.

There was a silence. Percy felt a slight urge to cry. He took a deep breath, trying to keep in the tears. Frank seemed to notice and moved his hand to cup Percy’s head, almost tenderly. They stayed like that for a moment before they separated, although Percy kind of wanted to keep being held. There was a wobbly something in his chest that responded well to soft touches and gentle holds. 

“... I missed you too,” he managed. 

Frank laughed. “Glad to hear it. How are the kids? Yours and ours?”

“Yours are fine. Emily got her PHD while you were dead.”

The grin on Frank’s face was the brightest Percy had ever seen. “I’m overjoyed. I just wish I could have been there to see it.”

Percy smiled. “Well, Hazel and Annabeth and I all were. That’s something at least.”

“Yeah, but it’s not… it’s not the same,” Frank sighed.

Percy nodded. “Trust me, I’m aware. Anyway, ours are fine too. Vivi retired last year. Said she wanted to play the lottery full time. I told her it was a great way to waste all your money. But of course, she wouldn’t listen to me.”

“She never did, did she?” 

“Nope. Sixty-odd years of living and she never learned to take advice.” Percy laughed sweetly. 

“Yeah. Just like her father,” Annabeth sighed.

Percy stuck out his tongue. “Don’t blame me. You had as much of a role in her creation as I did.”  
“More of a role, in fact.” Annabeth put an arm around his hip. “I didn’t see _you_ in labor for fourteen hours straight.”

Percy shuddered. The ‘miracle of childbirth’ wasn’t something he cared to remember in any great detail, despite watching it happen three times. “Please don’t start.”

She laughed, pecking him on the cheek. “Alright, Seaweed Brain. I won’t. Anyway, yeah, the kids are fine. Nothing life-threatening is happening.”

Frank grinned. “No prophecies?”

“Not that I know,” Annabeth laughed. “They’re luckier than we were.”

Frank sighed. “Couldn’t be happier about that.”

Percy nodded. “I’m glad.” He yawned. Exhaustion was taking hold. He wanted to wrap himself in a blanket and sleep for a very long time. Peace touched at the walls of his chest, mixing with his old traumas, creating a shaky mix inside him. He took Annabeth’s hand. “... I… I might need to go now, man. I just… I wanted to stop by before… you know.”

Frank nodded. “Yeah. You look tired.” He patted Percy’s shoulder. “Go sleep. We have all eternity to hang out.”

Percy sniffled. “... Thanks, man. Yeah, I’ll see you later.”

Annabeth gently led him from the house. They walked in warm silence. Her hand felt familiar, safe. It eased the stinging in Percy’s chest, bringing it down to a bearable level. Percy supposed seventy-odd years of loving someone would do that.

Percy recognized Annabeth’s house before she even said it was hers. The pure white marble columns lining the front made it obvious. It looked like a miniature Greek temple. “Did you design this yourself?”

Annabeth laughed. She squeezed his hand. “I wish. No, this just kind of… appeared. It seemed to have been built special for the two of us. You’ll see when you get inside.”

Annabeth led him inside. It looked a bit like the first house they'd owned as thirty-somethings, small and cozy. The rug and sofa were blue. Percy even noticed the blanket Annabeth had made him for his twenty-first birthday. He had a sudden memory of wrapping Vivi in it when she’d been sick as a child.

Those had been soft times.

Percy floated towards the sofa, but Annabeth halted him. “Hey, don’t crash on the couch. Come see our bed.”

He nodded. She led him upstairs. Their bedroom was the first room on the left. It really only had a bed and a closet in it, but the bed looked like the most comfortable thing in the world. The sheets were deep cobalt and looked silky. Percy even recognized the comforter that his mother had made for them when they’d first moved in together. Unlike their first bed, however, this one had a frame. It was a pretty wooden one with what looked like little flowers carved into it. There was a silky blue canopy draped over it.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Annabeth asked.

Percy nodded. He squeezed her hand again. “... Beautiful.”

Annabeth let go of his hand. She drifted over and lay down on the bed, curling up. “Here, join me. You said you were tired, right?”

Percy nodded. Elysium had a lingering faint warmth to it. It made Percy’s body heavy. He crawled into the bed beside her, a soft whine escaping him as he sank into the mattress, soft as a cloud. He buried his face in the pillow. The bed was a cradle, holding him in a way he hadn’t felt in… how long? Almost a century, he realized. Almost a century since his mother had held him in her arms, rubbed his back, told him he was precious, told him he was her sweetest baby boy. It made a slight wet ache well in his chest, tender. 

“... After we rest, can I see Mom?” Percy asked, quietly, into the silky pillow. 

Annabeth gently ruffled his hair. “Of course, Seaweed Brain.” She rolled over, presenting her back to Percy. “Spoon me?”

Percy put an arm around her waist, snuggling in close. He took a deep breath. The smell of sweet lemons filled his nose. His eyes prickled and his sinuses pooled with water. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed her scent. It had always been the little things of her that he had loved. The three months between their deaths had been harder than Percy had realized.

Percy drifted off to the feeling of his wife and lover for three-quarters of a century safe in his arms. They had all eternity. They’d be okay. Finally, they had their peace. 

They had made it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So some important news. I'm starting university this Monday. This means updates might get a little less frequent. I also am not going to have as much time to fill requests as I did before. The doc's not ending or anything, it just might get a little less active.   
> Please go easy on me.


	129. Non-shippy-Happy Father's Day, Guy Who's None of our Fathers!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chiron receives a card from his demigods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HeroofOlympus24. Filled your request.
> 
> No real warnings.

Chiron hadn’t ever had kids. 

Well, that was technically false. There had been that once incident a while back. But he didn’t care to remember that. After all, three thousand years was a long time to blame yourself for something you didn’t mean to do. Either way, he’d never celebrated Father’s Day. Never had a reason to. After all, what was the point? The demigods he trained were his pupils, not his children, and he treated them as such. 

That’s why he was so shocked at the beginning of one summer season when he trotted, exhausted, into his private quarters to see a poster-sized card reading  _ Happy Father’s Day  _ lying on his bed, which was little more than a large pile of blankets on the floor. 

Don’t judge. Finding decent bedding is hard when one is half horse.

_Must be something someone wants me to get out of camp for them,_ he thought. He sighed, moving a little closer. _Well… no harm in reading it. It was in my room, after all._ The card flapped in his hands like a newspaper as he opened it. He chuckled. _This person must really love their dad._

  
  


_ Dear Chiron… _

Chiron felt his heart skip a beat. There was no way it was his name written across the top of the page. There were probably forty little notes written under it, across the page, in mixed English and Greek. He started reading. 

_ I don’t know where to start here. I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. For providing a safe refuge for so many. For working your tail off day after day for all of us. For keeping us out of trouble. For making sure we’re safe and happy and fed. For not forcing me back home, even though that would have made everything so much easier for you. _

_ Thank you, _

_ Annabeth. _

_ Happy father’s day, man! I just wanted to say that we’re all super thankful for you. We don’t know your birthday, so we opted for Father’s day because you’re like a father figure to us. Thank you for all that you do! _

_ \--Percy _

_ HAPPY F-DAY THX 4 TAKIN ME IN _

_ CLARISSE _

_ Thank you so much for taking me back in, even after I defected, even after everything. I cannot express how much that meant to me. Thank you. I owe you one. I owe you several. _

_ Hugs, _

_ Chris _

_ Chiron, _

_ Happy Father’s day! Uncle’s day? I’m not sure. Anyway, thank you so much for providing this safe refuge. I know I rejected it for years, but still, thank you. And thanks for taking me back, even though I was a little brat about it. _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Nico di Angelo _

Chiron blinked. He realized suddenly that his eyes were clouded thick with tears. He scanned over the remainder of the notes. There were so many. Everyone had signed. Hell, even Thalia had written something. He folded the card, gently, lovingly, and put it on his desk. He wiped the tears from his eyes and sat down, taking a few deep breaths.  _ These children… oh, gods, they’re so precious. I only wish they didn’t need my care. They deserve so much more than war and tragedy.  _

“... Hey,” came a gentle voice from the door. “Did you get our card?”

He turned. Annabeth was leaning against the doorframe. “... Yes, I did. Thank you… thank you so much. It… it means a lot.” His voice cracked. “Sorry.”

Annabeth laughed. “It’s not a problem.” She moved towards him. “You need a hug?”

Chiron took a breath. “... I suppose I could use one, yes.”

Annabeth wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his tweed jacket. “It’s all right, man. We all care about you. You’re like a father to us. Really.”

He reciprocated the hug, holding her close, swallowing back the thick emotion that choked in his throat. He buried his face in her shoulder. It was nice that she was finally tall enough for him to lean into her. He didn’t get many hugs like the ones she gave. “... That’s a sweet compliment, Annabeth. I just… I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever received a thank-you note for my actions in… what? Four thousand years of doing this job?”

Annabeth squeezed him. “That’s unfortunate. We should have done this a long time ago, then.” She pulled away, patting his shoulder. 

“So… you were behind this?”

Annabeth gave a small smirk. “I might have been. But don’t worry about who had the idea. This card comes from all of us equally.”

“And how did you get it out to Thalia in time for Father’s Day?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” She kissed his cheek. “But seriously, it wasn’t as hard as you think.”

Chiron touched his cheek where she had kissed it. He took another deep breath. “... You’ve always been incredible, my girl.”

Annabeth blushed. “Thanks.”

Chiron gave a small smile. “No, it is I who should be thanking you. This is… this is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Annabeth raised her eyebrows. “That’s not okay, though. You deserve more.”

“So do all of you,” Chiron replied. “The only reason you even need me is because you’re doomed to train and train and train for an attack that may still ultimately take your life. Either that or you just don’t have anyone else. In fact, I was wishing that you all needed me  _ less. _ ”

Annabeth’s eyes took on a wide and vulnerable look. “You can’t control our circumstances. In fact, you make them better. That’s why we made you this card.”

Chiron wiped his eyes, misting up again, beyond his control. “... Thank you, my girl. I’m… I’m humbled.”

Annabeth kissed his other cheek. “No problem, Chiron. It’s only a small payback for all you do for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HeroOfOlympus24, I just have to say, while I'm happy you're enjoying my stuff so much, I'd just like to ask you to please hold off on making requests for a bit. I'm in kind of a stressful time and I'd like to not have a daily or near-daily request to attempt to fill. I'm really sorry.


	130. Some Percabeth-Just For Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis sends Thalia off on a few weeks' leave after Jason's death. Thalia can only think of one place to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ THE END NOTES!!!!! THEY'RE ACTUALLY IMPORTANT THIS TIME!!!!!!
> 
> Request fill for Rex88. Warnings for heavy grief.

It was probably two in the morning when Percy heard the knock on the door of his mother’s apartment.

Percy was only awake because it was Friday night--Saturday morning?--and Annabeth was having nightmares. He had moved her to the couch in the living room and poured her a cup of water. He’d just put the cup in her hands when the knock rang out.

He crossed the room and opened the door. Thalia was leaning heavily against the doorframe. Percy started slightly. “Oh… hi. What…?”

“Can I stay with you?” Thalia’s voice sounded like her throat was made of sandpaper. 

Percy cocked his head. “Why, what happened?” 

Thalia gave a dry laugh. “Lady Artemis gave me a few day’s… whatsitcalled… bereavement?”

Percy’s heart clenched. “... Okay. Come in, come in. But be quiet, the rest of my family is sleeping.”

“Your mom and who?” 

“My mom, my stepdad and my half-sister.”

Thalia swallowed thickly. “... I… mm.” She pushed into the apartment, looking around.

“... Thalia?” Annabeth rose off the couch, looking over. “Is that…?”

Thalia looked over. “The hell are you doing here?”

“Percy and I have been dating for, like, a year and a half. I live here.” Annabeth moved closer. “Why are you here?”

Thalia wandered over and collapsed into a chair at their kitchen table. “... All right. Uh… yeah… Artemis told me… she told me to take a week or two off from… Huntress-ing.”

“Why?” Annabeth perched in the chair next to her.

Thalia shrugged. “Uh. Tired.”

“Tired?” Annabeth took her hand. “Tired of what? Tired of being a Huntress? Have you fallen in love or something?”

“No, no, no love. I… I’m… it’s…” Thalia took a deep, shuddery breath. She squeezed Annabeth’s hand until her knuckles were white. “... Um… bad news from… out west. It’s…”

“Jason,” Annabeth murmured, rubbing her thumb over Thalia’s hand. “Grover already told us.”

Thalia gave a tiny nod. “... He’s a good boy… man… goat… person.” She laid her head in her arm on the table.

“Yeah,” Percy whispered. A sick feeling filled his gut.  _ My fault.  _ “He is.”

There was a long silence. Thalia was silent. She didn’t cry. She didn’t gasp or holler. All she did was stare off into space. It was almost as if her mind had totally shut down. Had gone completely numb. 

Annabeth held Thalia’s hand, squeezing it in gentle pulses. “... How are you holding up?”

“... I told Artemis that if she forced me to go rest somewhere I’d just get worse, but she didn’t believe me,” Thalia sighed ruefully. “I… I just need a place to crash for tonight. After that… after that, I might just… I don’t know. Run away somewhere. Spend one night here and then after that… go and run around in rural New York State and live off the land or some.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Percy murmured, sitting in another chair. “I’m sure my mom will put you up for as long as you need.”

“I don’t want that.” Thalia’s voice was dull. “Look, Perce, I can’t stay in one place for very long. Not when I’m like this. I’d rather worry about starving to death than worry about breaking down. All I need is a place to sleep tonight. Can I sleep on that couch, or is Annabeth using it?”

“Of… of course,” Percy said. “No, Annabeth sleeps in my room. You can have the couch.”

Thalia nodded. She stood up, staggering over to the couch and flopping down. The couch squeaked loudly under her weight. Percy heard her take a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I… he was on a yacht, I could have… I could have saved him. It was my fault. If I hadn’t… if I hadn’t blown off Apollo, he would… he would still be alive. It’s all my fault, Thalia, I…”

“Will you  _ shut up?”  _ Thalia’s voice came sharp. “Look, Perce, I’m in fucking agony. I can’t handle your shit as well as mine. It’s not your fault, you idiot. Don’t worry about it.”

Percy gave a small nod. His eyes stung. “... I’m sorry.”

Annabeth kissed his cheek. “What Thalia is saying is that you couldn’t have predicted this. She doesn’t blame you. No one blames you  _ but  _ you, Percy.”

Percy took a deep breath. Annabeth’s lips were soft. It was comforting. “... I still could have…”

“I said shut it!” Thalia hissed. “Stop fucking… ugh!” She growled. “I’m gonna kill you, Jackson.”

“Get in line, then,” Percy sighed. 

“Maybe I will.” Thalia’s voice was weak.

“Stop arguing, guys,” Annabeth sighed. “You’re both upset. You’re both grieving. You need to be comforting each other, not beating yourselves up and yelling at each other. Neither of you could have done shit. Now say you’re sorry.”

“... I’m sorry,” Percy replied. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just felt… I felt like I needed to apologize.”

“You don’t. And I’m sorry for yelling at you.” Her voice broke.

Annabeth and Percy moved over to where Thalia was curled up on the couch. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m not mad. You’re… you’re heartbroken. It’s okay.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Her voice was low and bitter. “To think someone’s dead, then find out they’re alive, then lose them for real…” She took a deep breath. “I can guarantee you that you don’t know how that feels.”

Annabeth took her hand again. She didn’t say anything, only leaned against her in a vague impersonation of a hug. Thalia put her arm around her back, melting into the hold. Percy heard her breathing get heavier. 

“... Is there anything I can do?” Percy managed.

“Just… tell your mom I’m here. Just so that she doesn’t freak if I’m not out of here before she wakes up,” Thalia managed.

Percy nodded. “Can do,” he whispered. He stood up and disappeared into the dark back rooms of the apartment.

Annabeth pulled away slightly, stroking Thalia’s hair. Silent tears were running over the bridge of her nose. “... I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry,” Annabeth murmured. “I think this is the first time.”

Thalia sniffled. She squeezed Annabeth’s hand like a lifeline. “... I… um… I don’t… fuck, ‘Beth, I…”

“... I’m here,” Annabeth murmured. “... I’ll help. Whatever you need, I’ll help.”

Thalia’s chest heaved. She clenched her jaw. “... I can’t fucking stop. I’ve never… I’ve always been able to stop myself.” Her voice broke. “I’m… I’m never just…”

“You’re not an easily wrecked person,” Annabeth soothed. “That’s not changing because of this. Look, Thals, this would have hurt anyone deeply.” She brushed Thalia’s cheek, stroking the tears away with gentle fingers. “It’s okay for you to cry.”

Thalia turned away, letting go of Annabeth’s hand, burying her face in the back of the couch. “I… I… mm…” She sniffled. “It hurts and… and I can’t get away from it, and I…  _ please,  _ ‘Beth, I…”

“I know.” Annabeth gently squeezed her body in a half-hug. “Do you think attending the funeral would help? Grover said they were having one over in New Rome.”

“... Maybe that’s where I’ll go after this,” Thalia sniffled. “I’d need plane ticket fare, but I could probably just take it out of the group checking account. We have one for emergencies.”

“I think that would be good for you,” Annabeth nodded. “I’d go if I could, but I have school, so…” She trailed off, shrugging.

Thalia nodded. She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I… I just… I need… I need… it hurts… I’m just… so tired.”

“... You’re safe here,” Annabeth murmured. “Try to rest. You’ll feel better if you can get some sleep.”

“I… I ca-an’t…” Thalia hiccuped. “I can’t rest. It hurts too much.” She pulled her knees to her chest. “I’m… I’m so tired, and I just… I want to crawl into a hole and die.” She suddenly punched the back of the couch. “Fuck, I warned Lady Artemis that this would happen! I told her that trying to leave and rest somewhere would only make it worse! Why the fuck did she think sending me away would help? Why? Why anything?” 

Annabeth rubbed her back gently. “First thing tomorrow, go to the airport and catch the first flight to San Francisco. Maybe in New Rome you’ll be able to find some peace.”

Thalia took a deep breath. She squeezed her hands into fists. “... I hope so.” 

Annabeth gave her a small squeeze. “Well, if you’re really not okay after the funeral, you can always come back here. I’ll always be here for you.”

Thalia took Annabeth’s hand again. She kissed her knuckles gently. Her lips were rough. “... Thanks,” she whispered, finally.

They sank into a quiet peace. Thalia’s breathing was soft and shaky. Her tears pooled silvery on the sofa beneath her head. Annabeth held her close. She smelled of ozone, but not unpleasantly so. Annabeth’s mind flashed back to their old runaway days, snuggled in Thalia’s arms against the monsters, being reassured that  _ it was gonna be okay,  _ that  _ they were together, _ that  _ they were a family and she wasn’t gonna be sent back. _

“... Annabeth? Thalia?” 

Annabeth raised her head. Sally was silhouetted in the hall, Percy behind her. “Hey, Sally. Yeah, Thalia’s here. She’s not… it’s Jason. He was her brother, so…” She shrugged wordlessly.

“Percy told me,” Sally nodded. She crossed over and sat at Thalia’s feet. She put a hand on her ankle. “I know it doesn’t sound good, but I’m so sorry, honey.”

Thalia squeaked. “Not your fault.”

“I know. I’m just… I’m offering condolences, baby.” She took a deep breath. “Percy said it was his fault.”

“I know,” Thalia sighed, her voice shaky. “I told him to shut it. It’s not his fault.”

“I told him the same thing. But in a much nicer way.”

Annabeth looked up. Percy had wandered over and curled up in a nearby easy chair. His eyes were red and downcast. Annabeth’s heart ached. She crossed the room and pushed herself against him so she was cuddled up in his arms. He leaned his face into her shoulder, hurting, tired, grateful. He gave a soft little sigh.

“... He probably needed to hear that,” Thalia mumbled. 

Sally nodded. “Yeah, he did.” She rubbed Thalia’s calf gently. “But it’s not about him. Is there… is there anything I can do for you?”

Thalia yawned. She shook her head. “... No. I just… I just need one night. I need one night’s sleep. Then in the morning I’m gonna go off to New Rome and… and make sure they’re doing him justice over there.”

Sally patted her leg. “You’re a good big sister.”

“A good big sister would have been able to save him,” Thalia replied flatly. 

Sally didn’t respond. Finally, she gently tapped Thalia’s shoulder, holding out her arms. Thalia lunged into the hold. A guttural sob wrenched from her throat, breaking into a keening wail as Sally held her, rubbing her back and rocking her back and forth. She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t hold it in. She’d tried so hard. After her initial breakdown in Artemis’s arms, she’d forced herself not to cry.

Her strength, her massive ironclad facade, all melted at Sally’s gentle touch.

Percy and Annabeth moved over, sitting next to her, putting hands on her back, murmuring senseless words of comfort. Thalia could barely register them. It figured that the moment she sat down she’d shatter. She was howling, screaming, and she couldn’t force herself to stop. All she could see was Jason, lying in a casket, his hands folded at his chest, his face pale. Her head was spinning and spinning and the one person who could have anchored it was dead. Her throat stung like it was full of needles. She still couldn’t stop screaming. She was breathless, so breathless, but she couldn’t halt her cries. Her chest burned and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t _think…_

Her whole body spasmed, but Sally held her firm. “Baby, baby,” she whispered. “Take a breath. I’m worried about you hurting yourself. I know you have tears to get out, that’s normal, but it won’t be good for you if you ruin your vocal cords. Percy, will you get her a blanket from the hall closet? The purple fuzzy one, please.”

“Yes, mom,” Percy murmured. 

Thalia felt one of the warm bodies behind her move away. Her breath hitched slightly in her raw throat, her keening cry cut off by her jerking breath. It was only another moment before a soft warmth was laid over her shoulders, tucked around her by six gentle hands. She gasped, softly, several hiccuping wheezes escaped her throat. 

“That’s good, babe,” Sally whispered. “Here, I’ve got you. Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Thalia gave a small nod. She melted into Sally’s arms, shuddering slightly. “I’m… I’m so-orry.”

“Don’t be. Crying is good when you’re really in pain. I just… with the way you were screaming, I was worried that you’d hurt yourself. Also that you’d wake the baby, but honestly, Paul can handle that.”

Thalia gave a halfhearted nod. She whimpered slightly.

“Oh, baby,” Sally cooed, closing her eyes. Thalia’s body jerked against the warm enclosure of Sally’s arms. It broke Sally’s big, warm heart. She gave Thalia a small squeeze, gently petting her hair.

It was a while before Thalia’s sobs tapered off. Even after she stopped crying, she didn’t pull away. Sally took a deep breath, an idea percolating in her brain. “Percy? Annabeth?”

“We’re here,” Annabeth responded, putting an arm around Percy’s body.

“Can you two go back to your bed? I can take it from here.”

They nodded. They pulled away, standing up. Annabeth put a hand on Thalia’s shoulder. “... Remember I’m there for you, okay?”

Thalia gave a tiny nod.

“I’m sorry,” Percy whispered. “I know you’re done with hearing it, but I am.”

Thalia gave another tiny nod. “‘S okay,” she whispered. Sally was right, she had hurt her throat.

They retreated back to their bedroom, leaving Sally and Thalia on the couch. Sally pulled Thalia down so they were curled up together, her face buried in Sally’s neck. The part of Thalia that had rejected all forms of physical comfort at age nine was quickly drowned out by the part of her that had… needed this? Was it a need? Were the soft hands over her back, the comfort of Sally’s warmth, needs?

Thalia didn’t have the energy to think about it anymore. She took a deep breath and melted into a light doze.

  
  
  
  
  


It was bright when Sally woke, tucked into her own bed.

She started. She could have sworn she’d fallen asleep on the couch with Thalia wrapped in her arms.  _ Who carried me to bed? I mean, technically everyone but Estelle is able to do so, but who? _

She sighed when Estelle gave a loud whine from her crib across the room. She pulled herself up, changed Estelle and carried her out into the living room. She approached the couch. The blanket she’d wrapped Thalia in was neatly folded with a sky-blue piece of paper on top. She lay Estelle gently on the couch and picked up the note.

_ Dear Mrs. Jackson, _

_ Thank you so much.  _

_ I don’t like to cry in front of others. I really don’t. And I never intended to go into a meltdown while I was here. And I’m really sorry for that. But the way you treated me was overwhelmingly gentle. I don’t deserve it nor you.  _

_ I hope you, Percy, Annabeth, Paul and your little girl are all healthy and well. Call me if you have any problems. I’ll be in San Francisco for a little while, then I’m going back to Wyoming. We have a base there. _

_ XOXO Thalia _

There was a number scrawled beneath the signature. Sally chuckled.  _ Well… I’m glad she’s doing a little better. And I’m glad I could bring her some comfort. _

_ I’ll call that number tomorrow. Give her some time to settle in. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really enjoying doing requests right now.
> 
> I don't hate them. But I really do need some time to work on stuff I actually want to write. Like, a few weeks' time. So I'm asking you all to please, please hold off on the requests for the time being. My reasons are twofold. One: I'm at the point where if I don't start writing the stuff I truly enjoy again, I'm gonna lose what I actually like about writing these fics, and I really, really don't want that to happen. Two: my life is really beginning to get in the way of my request fills and I don't want to promise something I can't fulfill in a timely manner. I'm really sorry, guys.
> 
> I hope this isn't too upsetting to any of you. I don't plan to 'never take requests again' or anything of the sort. I just need a little time. 
> 
> Sorry for the rant. If you have any questions, please ask. 
> 
> I love you all. I mean that. I'm not doing this because I don't like you guys or anything. I'm doing this for me.


	131. Non-shippy (mentions of Percabeth)-Auntie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermes is miserable on the first anniversary of Manhattan. He finds a kindred spirit in an unexpected place.
> 
> Featuring sad!Hermes, confused!sad!Percy, and motherly Hestia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter uploaded before I start university. I'm so fucking scared. 
> 
> Warnings for one inappropriate line aimed at a minor (a 17 y/o) and references to abuse.

Percy couldn’t quite recognize the figure sitting next to Hestia by the central hearth.

There was something about him that looked _vaguely_ familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. His head was bowed. He was wearing some sort of jogging tracksuit that was a washed-out shade of blue. A baseball cap was shoved haphazardly over dark curly hair. _Tracksuit,_ Percy thought. _Who do I know who wore a tracksuit? I think Hermes wore one at some point. But why the hell would he be here if not for some quest?_

 _Ah, fuck it. I’ll bite._ He wandered down towards the central hearth. “Lady Hestia.”

She looked up. “Percy Jackson! What a surprise. I assumed that on a week such as this you’d make an attempt to be with family. It’s near your birthday, is it not?”

He blushed. “Uh… yeah. Two days away, actually.”

Hestia chuckled. “How old? Seventeen?”

Percy nodded. He sat down at her other side. “Yes, my lady.”

“For your sake, I hope your seventeenth year is easier than your sixteenth,” Hestia nodded. 

Percy studied the flames. “... I hope so too.” He cleared his throat, shaking off the bad memories. “Anyway, who’s your friend here?”

“You’ve met my nephew,” Hestia replied, nodding in his direction. “Hermes. Zeus’s second littlest or so.”

Percy studied Hermes. “He’s looking young today.”

“A bit,” Hestia shrugged. “I mean, the older gentleman was something he affected recently.”

Percy’s studying turned into a full-on baleful stare. “Why is he here?”

Hermes shrugged listlessly. “... I can go.”

“Oh, really? Before you even send me off on some lengthy, life-threatening quest? But where’s the fun in that?”

Hermes looked up. His pale blue-green eyes were dull. “I don’t have a quest for you, Percy.”

“You could hide your staff somewhere. Make me go on a wild goose chase to find it.” Percy’s voice was low and bitter.

“I didn’t… look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it that time. If it pleases you, next time I have an issue, I’ll ask someone else. I have some sons…” He trailed off, staring into the hearth. 

Percy swore he saw tears glittering in Hermes’s eyes. “... Are you upset because it’s…”

Hermes gave a small nod. 

“... I get it,” Percy mumbled. “Yeah. I… I almost couldn’t stay here. The only reason I didn’t flee off for California is because my mom wanted… she said I needed a proper birthday celebration. I would have bitched more, but Annabeth agreed with her, and I can’t argue with the both of them, you know? But yeah, it’s not… it’s better now. Kronos is gone. Gaia is gone.”

“... It’s not okay,” Hermes whispered. “Apollo’s gone. I don’t know where Zeus is keeping him. He won’t let me see him. I… I worry he’s…” He bit his lip, shaking his head.

Percy stared into the flames. He got a sudden mental image of Zeus keeping Apollo in an electrified dog collar of sorts. It made his stomach clench. “... I’m sorry. That sounds… really bad.”

Hermes rested his head in his hands. “It is. And there’s nothing I can do, because if I try and sneak around and pull something, then Zeus will torture me too, and it’ll be worse for me because… because…” His voice broke. Hestia took his hand. Hermes squeezed hers until his knuckles were white.

Percy didn’t take his eyes off the fire. The flames burned slightly higher. “... Because?”

“... Because Luke,” Hermes whispered. “He’ll say I’m just like my son.”

Percy closed his eyes. “... I’m sorry.” 

Hermes just shrugged. “Not your fault. You’re not the one pulling Zeus’s strings. And if you are, somehow, I’m smiting you. Because despite everything, I’m still my father’s little bitch.”

Percy was silent for a long time. “... I’m not pulling Zeus’s strings. If I were, Apollo wouldn’t be incognito right now.”

Hermes wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “You’re a good man, Percy. I wish more mortals had your heart.”

Percy felt a flash of defiance, an _I don’t need your approval!_ He swallowed it away. Hermes wasn’t being a prick. He didn’t need Percy to be angry at him. “... Thanks,” he finally managed. 

Hermes gave a listless nod. 

“Go easy on him,” Hestia murmured, almost as if reading Percy’s mind. “He’s in an extreme amount of pain. He needs kindness. He has no quest for you. He has no issue with you. He merely came to me for comfort. He has nowhere else to go.”

Percy stared at his shoes, a pair of white sneakers that had turned the color of mud. His toes were cramped in the front, he could barely straighten them. He made a mental note to tell his mother he needed new ones. “... I didn’t… I guess I just thought that… I didn’t think you guys felt… grief, or loss, or loneliness, or anything, you know?”

“We do,” Hestia replied. “Most of us can ignore it most of the time by saying oh well, it doesn’t really matter, it’s just a mortal, but sometimes, with special mortals, it’s a bit harder to get over. And Hermes grieves the loss of family members. You know full well that that is different.” Hestia fixed Percy with a fiery gaze.

The flames reached a bit higher. Percy felt the heat on his face, burning slightly at his lips. “... I do. I’m sorry.”

Hestia nodded. “Of course. No, I’m aware you do not have the highest opinion of us. After what my sister did to you I can hardly blame you. But please think before you say such demeaning things about us.”

Percy held up his hands. “I said I was sorry!”

“And I said I have no issue with you,” Hestia responded. “I’m just asking for you to be careful not to trivialize his grief.”

“Will do,” Percy sighed. “I’m sorry, Hermes.”

Hermes gave Percy a thumbs-up. 

Hestia patted her lap. “Lie down, little one. I can see how tired you are.”

Percy started. “Uh. I’m… I’m good.”

“Not you, foolish one. Hermes.” Hestia shook her head. “You’re fine. It’s Hermes who’s shattered.”

Percy wanted to protest that he could use a hug as well, but it wouldn’t matter to Hestia anyway, so he kept his mouth shut. Hermes lay down with his head in Hestia’s lap. “... Thanks,” he murmured, almost inaudibly. 

Hestia gently pulled off her cloak, draping it over Hermes’s shoulders. She carded her fingers through his hair. “You’re welcome, my nephew. Now rest. You’re here now. You’re safe.”

Hermes took a shaky breath. “Please… tell Zeus not to… not to hurt Apollo too badly, okay? I can’t… I can’t stand to see him suffer.”

“I will,” she murmured.

Percy’s eyes widened. “Does Zeus listen to you?”

“Roughly once or twice per century, yes, he does,” Hestia sighed. “I’m just praying this is one of those times.” 

Percy flinched as Hestia’s voice echoed in his head. _Privately, between you and me, I don’t think it is, but don’t tell Hermes that. He can’t hear it right now._

“How did you…” His eyes were the size of dinner plates.

“Don’t fret it too strongly. Anyway, tell your mom I said congratulations.”

“For what?”

Hestia’s eyes glimmered. “You’ll see.”

Percy stared back into the flames. “... Well, at least it’s a good thing.”

Hestia nodded peacefully. “I just pray that my family will be as blessed as yours someday. I must say, my brothers seem disinterested in sowing peace.” She started slightly, looking over at Percy. “No offense to you, of course.”

Percy’s eyes darkened. “Of course. No, I’m aware my dad’s done some shit. You don’t need to treat me like a child and shade the truth.”

Hestia looked over at Percy. The flames roared higher. “You are no child. But you are not wise, either. Do not assume you know the depth of our treacherous acts.”

Percy flinched back a bit. “... I’m sorry. Please don’t light me on fire.”

Hestia waved her hand. “You wouldn’t burn too badly anyway. Too much of your father in you.”

“It would still _hurt,”_ Percy grumbled.

“Ah, right. I forget how low mortal pain tolerances are. My apologies. Either way, under the current leadership, there will never be total peace. Zeus keeps the world turning well enough, but he can’t make it perfect, and he has no interest in trying. Poseidon will mess with Zeus at every turn. It takes a massive threat to keep them from being at odds,” Hestia sighed. “I used to wish for their cooperation, but I have given up on trying to make it happen.”

Percy shrugged. “Gods, am I right?”

The flames blasted up like they’d been doused in rocket fuel. Percy jerked back two full feet. 

“Let’s not say things we don’t mean,” Hestia said, in the same tone Percy’s mom used whenever she was upset at him.

“... My apologies,” Percy murmured, stunned. “... Uh… anyway, is… is Hermes gonna be okay?”

Hestia looked down, stroking his hair, his forehead. The flames receded to a manageable level. “Eventually, yes. It may take a long time, but eventually, he will be okay.”

“A long time? Like, within my lifetime, or...?”

Hestia shrugged. “It depends how long you live.” 

Percy’s head spun. “... Let’s assume I make it to seventy-five.”

Hestia nodded. “Sure, why not? Yes, he will be okay by then. He will recover once Apollo returns.”

Percy sighed. “... Good to hear it.” He shifted. “Well, I’ll give you your space. I’m pretty sure Hermes doesn’t want to hear me run my jaw. Also, Annabeth and I were going to spar, so…” He gave a shrug.

Hestia raised her eyebrows. “Is this how you youths express love to one another nowadays? If so, I’m glad I never went for romantic affections.”

A laugh bubbled up from Percy’s throat. “No, no. She and I can match each other pretty well skill-wise, so we spar each other a lot. We have some ground rules so we don’t injure each other too badly, and we take care of each other afterwards. It’s all fine.”

“... Okay. I’m not judging.” She held up her hands. “What you mortals do to get yourselves in the mood to reproduce is none of my business.”

Percy’s face flamed. “... Uh. I’m… gonna go.” He stood up, scrambling off over the hill in the direction of the arena.

“... He’s not of age, you know,” Hermes mumbled. “You can’t say sexual things to someone not of age.”

“When do they become of age again? I thought it was fourteen.”

“It’s eighteen now,” Hermes mumbled. “It’s been at least a hundred years since it was fourteen. In the West, anyway.”

Hestia gently rubbed his back. “Thank you, my dear nephew. You’ve always been a brilliant mind.”

Hermes didn’t respond. He curled up a little tighter. His wings hung limply over his ankles, looking like a shot swan. He’d curled his cap in his hands, the wings crushed between his fingers. The crushed little things twitched sadly, almost desperate, as if inwardly, they wished to carry their master away, away from his problems, away from the drama, away from his pain. 

Hestia ruffled his hair again gently. “... Maybe you should take some you time?”

“Where would I go?” Hermes asked simply. “Just because I can fly doesn’t mean I could just fly away. Besides, Zeus would just track me down. I couldn’t just go. I need to keep up my work.”

Hestia gave a small sigh. “I wish I could bring you more peace, child. I wish my brother would give you your time.”

Hermes took a shuddery breath. “If you really want to help, conjure me a chicken leg. That would bring me some inner peace.” He touched his stomach lightly, feeling it gurgle beneath his fingertips.

Hestia laughed. “Oh, my nephew. You always did enjoy the foods of mortals.” She ruffled his hair. “How does your stomach stand it? If I ate the way you did, I’d never be able to be comfortable.”

“I’ve been blessed,” Hermes shrugged. “They say I’m the most useless Olympian, well, fuck them. I’m the most versatile.”

“Who calls you that?”

Hermes sighed. “I’ve been hearing it off and on for… well, since ancient times, really. But it doesn’t matter. I’m hungry.”

Hestia laughed. She had a sweet laugh. “Sit up, then. I’m not handfeeding you. You are not an infant.”

Hermes pouted. He sat up, tiredly, dizzily, leaning his head in his hand. He passed Hestia her cloak and she wrapped it around her shoulders. Hestia conjured up a leg of chicken, putting it in his hands. He took a bite, savoring the sweet taste of ambrosia glazed over the meat. It reminded him, painfully, of those old Olympian dinners, trying to get there quickly so he could sit next to Apollo, before Dionysus or someone could cram in next to him. Artemis would occupy Apollo’s right side, leaving only one seat open for at least two who wanted the pleasure of existing by Apollo’s side. She always sat to his right, because she was always right, or so she said.

The memories ached more than Hermes cared to admit. 

He licked the last of the meat from the bone, sighing softly. “Thank you, auntie. I owe you one.”

Hestia sighed. “Oh, the whole of Olympus owes me one. I expect no reward.”

Hermes looked down. “When’s your birthday?”

Hestia thought. “... I do not remember my true birthday.”

“So… what? Do we celebrate your regurgitation day or something?”

Hestia stared into the flames. “... If you must, it’s the same day as Poseidon and Hades’s.”

Hermes nodded. “Perhaps we will do something. At bare minimum, I will do something.”

Hestia kissed his cheek. “You are very kind, my nephew.”

Hermes took a long, deep breath. “... I must go, I think. Father will… I cannot risk his wrath. Not now. If I do not placate him, Apollo will be…” He swallowed hard. “I do not want to risk anything.”

Hestia opened her arms. “May I hold you for one more moment? Please?”

Hermes leaned into her embrace. She tangled her fingers in his hair, stroking gently, like a kitten. Hermes sighed. Oh, gods, if only he could rest in her arms a little longer. She was warm and gentle and it was… it was _good._ He, the child who had been so desirous to leave the cradle, had spent his whole life searching for it again. The touch was loved, needed, desired.

He took a deep breath and pulled away. “... Thank you, auntie.”

“No problem, baby,” she sighed. 

Hermes pulled himself up, straightening out the wings he’d crushed beneath his fingers, pulling on his cap, shading his eyes from the sun. The sun was never as pleasant if Apollo wasn’t there. He took a deep breath. “I have to go now.”

“Where are you going?”

Hermes shrugged. “Everywhere. Anywhere. Somewhere. Nowhere. I don’t know where. But I can’t stay here.”

Hestia blinked. “... Will you be home for dinner?”

Hermes shrugged. “No idea. Maybe.”

“Please be home for dinner. I’m cooking tonight.”

“In that case, yes, I will be home for dinner.” He fluttered his wings gently, slowly levitating, swaying slightly. “Ugh. My wings are still a little fucky. I might… I hope I didn’t break anything.”

Hestia shrugged. “I don’t know. You should see Hephaestus about that.”

Hermes sighed. “Tonight. I have things to catch up on.” He flew a few feet upwards. “I will see you later.”

“See you later, my baby nephew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm back with some plugs! First of all, if you like stuff with our messenger boi, are okay with m/m ships (and Hermes/Apollo, and Dionysus/Hermes) and don't mind stepping a bit out of the PJO fandom, then you should read this. https://archiveofourown.org/works/26114176/chapters/63523099
> 
> It's another drabble doc. It only has one real chapter up so far, but it shows a lot of promise, so I'm plugging it here because it deserves more reads. There's going to be some NSFW at some point apparently, so be forewarned.
> 
> My second plug is this. https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219204/chapters/61127794  
> This one is a bit different. It's a good bit darker. Basically it's dark!Apollo falling in love with Percy and resorting to some fairly dirty tricks to get his hand. No sexual assault or anything, though. Either way, it's well written. It has to be, because I'm not usually one for bisexual!Percy, but I don't mind it so much in this. If you like m/m angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff, you'll find it here.


	132. Percabeth-Be Your Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth has something she wants to apologize to Percy about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for abuse mentions (physical and emotional), insecurity on all ends, people blaming themselves/feeling bad for things they can't change.

“... Percy?”

Percy glanced to his right. Annabeth was sitting in the passenger seat of the Prius, staring at the trees as they zoomed past. They were on their way to camp, again, the last summer before they left for college. “You all right, Wise Girl? You need a rest stop, or…”

Annabeth stretched. “No, I’m… I’m good. I just… I wanted to… I wanted to apologize.”

Percy cocked his head. “Why?”

“I was thinking about… about… you remember how I judo-threw you when we were reunited in New Rome?”

Percy laughed. “Yeah, that was funny. Why?”

“I just wanted to say… I’m sorry for that. It was… it wasn’t… I mean, with you and…” She swallowed hard. “Your mom told me where you got the scars on your thighs.”

Percy started. The car swerved over the median line. Once he got the car back under control, he squeaked out an “... Oh.”

“... I was going to wait to tell you,” she sighed. “My plan was to talk to you about this on the beach at camp, but…”

“But I asked, I know.” Percy gripped the wheel a little tighter. 

“Anyway, I… I wanted to apologize if… if me judo-throwing you triggered anything. I… I didn’t know how bad it had been. I’m sorry.”

Percy reached over, taking her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t even thinking about that asswipe then. I was just too happy to see you.”

Annabeth squeezed it tightly. “You’re too kind. I was just… your mom actually got kind of upset when she caught us playfighting that one time. She took me aside and… well… she told me everything. Start to finish.”

Percy’s eyes widened. “She was able to do that?”

“She cried a lot. Paul had to take care of her.”

Percy sighed quietly. “... My poor mother. I… I tried so hard to hide it from her, but...”

Annabeth squeezed his hand, crushingly tight, her fingers trembling desperately around his. Her heart ached. “Oh, gods, Seaweed Brain. It’s… oh, Percy, it must have been so heavy to carry that all on your own. I’m so sorry.”

Percy blushed. “... No, it’s okay. I lived, didn’t I?”

“It’s not okay for people to treat you like that. Okay? It’s just not. It doesn’t matter if it’s a kid or a teacher or your stepfather or what. You don’t deserve that.” Annabeth pulled his hand close to her chest, cupping it against herself. “You just  _ don’t.” _

Percy pulled over, hugging the curb, parking the car. He swallowed audibly.

“... You all right? Why are you pulling over?” 

Percy held out his arms. His eyes were wet. His breath was heavy and creaky.

Annabeth unbuckled her seatbelt, leaning in, holding him close. The center console dug into her hip, but she didn’t care. She could feel his lip trembling. She traced her fingers south, softly over his back, her hand coming to rest in the small of his spine, a silent  _ I’ve got you.  _ “... It’s all right,” she murmured. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you.”

Percy swallowed. “No, I know that.” He took a deep breath, sniffling. “I’m just… I’m sorry.”

“You’re overwhelmed?”

“I’m okay, I’m just not used to… you know. I mean, he always told me I deserved it. My mom told me not to believe him, but she also told me I was a good kid, so…” He shrugged. 

Annabeth squeezed him tight, pressing her fingers into the small of his back, almost clawing at the flesh. She couldn’t express the emotions that choked in her throat. How dare Gabe tell him he deserved pain. She took a deep breath, trying not to cry in her own right. It wouldn’t help Percy if she broke. It was another few breaths before she found words. “Well, you didn’t deserve it. And I’m right and he’s wrong. Whatever my IQ is, it’s higher than his, so I know I’m right.”

Percy’s chest rumbled with laughter. “Think your IQ may be higher than most people’s.”

“Thank you. But did you hear me? You never deserved that pain. I don’t know what those scars look like, or how big they are, but you don’t deserve even tiny ones.” She moved away, pulling him into a kiss. His lips were softer than normal, which she found deeply pleasant. His reciprocation was gentle and tasted slightly of salt. Tears.  _ Oh, Seaweed Brain. My boy.  _

It was a moment before she separated from him. His eyes were a little red, not the reddest she’d ever seen on him, but still a tiny bit misty. 

Percy took a deep breath. “Thanks. That was… really nice.”

Annabeth cocked her head. “How was it different from the normal kisses?”

Percy blinked a few times, looking down at Annabeth’s lap. “... I don’t know. It was just… softer. I can’t really explain it.”

Annabeth gave a small chuckle. “Well, I’m glad it was satisfying. See,  _ that’s  _ what you deserve.”

Percy’s cheeks flamed deeply. “Thanks, I guess.”

“No. I’m serious. You deserve all the good in the world. I can’t justify you receiving an ounce of that pain. You’re not cruel. You don’t deserve to be treated like a terrible person.” She touched under his chin, leading his face, making him look at her. “You. Do. Not. Deserve. Pain.”

Percy gave another hard swallow. His eyes were wet. “... I… I’m so sorry, Annabeth, I… I don’t know how to respond. I don’t… I’ve never…”

Annabeth leaned in, gently kissing Percy’s closed eyelids, tasting the salt, feeling his eyelashes against her lips. “Just say thank you, Seaweed Brain.”

“... Thanks,” he managed, his voice cracking slightly.

“You’re welcome,” Annabeth murmured, her voice soothing. She’d learned by now what tone of her voice was gentlest in Percy’s ears. Percy wasn’t difficult to soothe, not necessarily, but he was one big ball of sadness, shame and worries and  _ gods damn it if she was going to let him suffer that alone.  _

Percy took a deep breath, pulling away slightly, sitting back fully in his seat.. “I… I guess I needed that. Thank you.”

Annabeth took Percy’s hand. “You’re always welcome. But back to the original topic of this conversation. I want you to tell me if we’re sparring or playfighting or something and I accidentally set something off, okay? I want to be a source of comfort for you, not a source of pain.”

Percy looked down. “... I will,” he whispered. “But… but I… you don’t set things off. I trust you enough to know you won’t hurt me.”

Annabeth’s cheeks warmed. “Thanks, Percy.” She took a deep breath. “That’s all I really wanted to say. I just… I just thought that this was something we should speak about.”

Percy gave her hand a long, hard squeeze. He didn’t say anything, but Annabeth could sense he had a lot of thoughts brewing, a lot of things he couldn’t speak. Finally, he kissed her fingers and murmured “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replied. “Tell me if you’re hurting, okay? I want to know if you’re feeling bad.”

“Every day I wake up and silently resent my parents for birthing me,” Percy sighed, turning back, restarting the car. 

“Dude, same,” Annabeth laughed. “Also, it’s really fucking weird to hear you say that you resent your mom.”

“I don’t resent her, not really. I just… I don’t… I fucked up her whole life. It would have been better for both of us if I had never been born.”

Annabeth rubbed her thumb on his finger. “It wouldn’t have been better for me.”

“You would have lived, Annabeth! My mom spent ten years getting her ass beat because… because she had to… she had to marry a guy whose scent was so bad that it… it covered my demigod scent!” His voice broke, swallowing hard. He slumped over the wheel, aborting any attempt to drive off. “I ruined my own mother. Her suffering was my fault.”

Annabeth swallowed, feeling her eyes sting. “Percy, that… that wasn’t your fault. Your mom made a point of that when she talked to me about it. She was… she was young and desperate. She didn’t know that camp would have taken you in toddlerhood. Nothing about that was your fault. Please, please,  _ please  _ don’t blame yourself.” She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep, shuddery breath. “For your mother’s sake and mine.”

Percy didn’t respond for a long time. Finally, he whispered “I’m scum. Undeserving of life. You can’t change my mind on this.”

“... I love you,” she whispered, the only thing she could think of. “I love you so much. You’re everything to me.”

“You could have done so much better,” Percy mumbled. “I know you’re hurting and lonely. I know that you spent most of your life alone. But you didn’t have to run off after the first guy who offered you companionship.”

“I didn’t,” Annabeth replied simply. “Look, Percy, I’m dating you because I love you. Not because I’m lost or lonely or hurting. You’re not some little fling I picked up to soothe my broken heart. I chose you as my long-term boyfriend and partner because you’re sweet, funny and caring and I love you. Not because I ‘needed a man’ or something like that.” She gave a low chuckle. “Believe me, I’m not the type to do that.

“And as for your other comments, I don’t think your abuse was your fault, or deserved, or anything. I don’t think that you’re scum. I don’t think you’re undeserving of life. I don’t think you caused your mother pain. Percy, you can’t help your existence. Your demigod scent is not your fault. Your mom did her best. In the end, if there is fault to be laid, it certainly won’t wind up on your shoulders. You are innocent, Percy, okay?”

Percy didn’t respond.

Annabeth looked over. His shoulders were heaving. She reached out and put arms around him, leaning her head on his shoulder. “... I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much. You’re the most wonderful boy, the sweetest man. You’re everything to me.”

Percy turned around and held her tight, squeezing her, holding her as close as he could over the center console, clinging to her. He buried his face in her shoulder and wept. His sobbing body heaved against hers, the power in his muscles enough to shake them both. She rubbed circles in the small of his back, using her other hand to stroke the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. She took a deep breath.  _ It won’t help if I cry too. Percy doesn’t deserve that. Percy deserves comfort and warmth. He deserves to be able to depend on me. He doesn’t deserve my tears.  _

She gently kissed over his neck, his shoulder, up to his jawline and back down. Maybe if she kissed him enough, the pain would go away. Maybe if she was gentle enough to him, he wouldn’t cry. Maybe if she hugged him and cuddled him enough, it would get better. 

Maybe she could make it okay.

It felt like an eternity before Percy finally calmed down. Nothing was said. He merely let his cries taper down to little sniffles, let himself linger against her for gods alone knew how long after that. She did not interfere, didn’t speak, didn’t try to push him away. She only held him, cradled him, and he held her back.

Percy took a deep breath, finally, filling his lungs with needed oxygen. He pulled away and wiped his face on his sleeve. “... Thank you.”

“You’re always welcome,” Annabeth murmured. She wanted to touch him again, hold him. He still looked like he wanted to cry, looked like he’d cut himself off before he could get full relief. “It’s okay if you’re vulnerable in front of me. I don’t mind.”

Percy took a deep breath. “I love you. Remember that.”

Annabeth took his hand. “Only if you remember the same.”

Percy blinked, slowly, heaving another sigh, shuddery and wheezy. “... I’ll do my best.”

They sat in silence for another moment. Annabeth turned on the radio, letting the music play quietly in hopes of drowning out whatever terrible voices were playing in his head. Finally, she asked “Are you still okay to drive?”

Percy took a third deep breath. Annabeth understood why. Ever since Tartarus, both of them had felt it impossible to get enough oxygen. Neither of them had sought medical attention, after all, how would they have explained that they’d damaged themselves crawling through hell? “... Yeah,” he murmured. “I’m okay to drive.” He pulled the car off the roadside slowly, maneuvering it back onto the near-empty road. “I’m sorry for crying like a little bitch. I honestly didn’t mean to break the way that I did.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Annabeth soothed. “I don’t mind. I  _ like  _ comforting you, Percy. It makes the relationship feel more… mutual, in a way.”

Percy squeezed her hand. “Gods, could you  _ get  _ any more perfect?”

“Well, I have a couple temper issues I could fix. I could work on being more direct with my anger. You know, so you know why I get mad at you. I could dye my hair--”

“--You shouldn’t do that,” Percy interrupted. “I don’t mean to oppress you or whatever, but I like your hair the way it is.”

Annabeth laughed. “Thanks, Percy. Do you think people think I’m a dumb blonde, though?”

“Not if they’ve spoken to you, heard about your reputation, or even looked at you for more than, like, two minutes. Seriously, I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. You’re fine,” Percy laughed.

Annabeth squeezed his hand. “Thanks. I… I needed to hear that, I think.”

Percy smiled over at her, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “No problem, Wise Girl.”

“Also, see? You always comfort me. Give me the chance to do the same for you. We’re all insecure about some things, Perce. If we help each other, no one has to bear it alone.”

Percy sighed. “I dunno. I mean, he used to beat me for crying. I kind of… I started holding it back unless I was alone or only with my mother.”

Annabeth could hear the anger seething below the surface. “... Well, I won’t do anything like that. You don’t need to worry about any abuse or insults from me.”

Percy gently rubbed his thumb on her hand. “I know. That’s what… that’s what I love about you.”

“Gonna be frank, it’s kind of sad that your one standard is ‘doesn’t viciously abuse you’. Once again, you deserve so much better.”

Percy gave a humorless chuckle. “Thank you. I know I don’t quite believe you, but it still means a lot when you say those kind things. It… it warms me. It really does.”

Annabeth kissed his cheek. “I’m glad to be your warmth, Seaweed Brain. It’s an honor, really.”

Percy smiled. “I’ll be your warmth as well, Wise Girl.”

_ You already are, _ she thought, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.  _ And I love you for that. _


	133. Percabeth-Don't Get In Between Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth doesn't like the way Calypso looks at Percy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AnimeNightwing2002 wanted to see what I'd do with a quote from one of their fics. I liked the idea, so I wrote it. I did change the quote very slightly to fit the rhythm of the words better. I hope you don't mind.
> 
> Warnings for possessive!Annabeth, mildly sexual content. Basically just Annabeth has a slightly fucky headspace when it comes to romance and Percy gets kind of turned on by it. No actual sex, but it is mentioned. And it's slightly underage cuz they're both 17 here.

“Why do you always scowl so hard at her?” Percy asks, following Annabeth’s gaze over to where Calypso stands a few yards away on the beach. Percy can tell that Calypso can feel her glare. She’s shrinking in on herself ever so slightly, refusing to give Annabeth the benefit of her attention, a silent  _ go away, please go away.  _ “She never did anything to you.”

Annabeth huffs. She crosses her arms. “Are you really that oblivious?”

“Annabeth, I’m concerned. You’ve been so angry these past two weeks. I haven’t seen you like this since the Labyrinth. I just… I mean, you told me it wasn’t  _ me,  _ and it wasn’t your father, and it’s been two weeks so it can’t just be that time of the month. Why are you so mad?”

Annabeth is silent for a long time. Percy can’t see her face. There’s a slight tremble in her shoulders and he wants to put his hands there, rub out the tension, release whatever she hides. Finally, she speaks, her voice trembling, whether with tears or rage, he can’t tell. “Have you seen the way she looks at you?”

Percy cocks his head. “... No. Why?”

“She looks at you like you’ve hung the fucking sun, Percy. She doesn’t even look at Leo that way, and he bailed her out of an eternal prison sentence. I’ve caught her staring at you more times than I can count. 

“And every time she comes up to you, making small talk or asking for some stupid favor, you oblige her. You don’t refuse her jack shit. You’re leading her on so hard I’m starting to wonder if you’re sick of  _ me.” _

Something icy cold clutches at Percy’s heart. “No! I mean… no. I’d never be sick of you. I love you. You’re my Wise Girl. The one who’s been by my side through everything. Just because I’m nice to Calypso doesn’t mean I want to date her.” He flashes his typical crooked grin. “Besides, you know immortality is a turn-off for me.”

Annabeth turns. Her eyes are red-rimmed, she isn’t crying, but Percy can tell she’s holding in a lot. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m not in the mood.”

Percy nervously rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were that jealous. If I had known how bad I was making you feel, I would have done more to avoid her.”

“I’m not  _ jealous,  _ Percy. Jealousy would imply that I think you would cheat, and I know you wouldn’t do that. You’re too loyal. Too kind.” She takes a deep breath, raising her hands to touch Percy’s shoulders. “What I am is  _ possessive.  _ No one, guy or girl, gets to look at you like that other than me. You are  _ mine.  _ Only  _ mine.”  _ She stands on her tiptoes and grabs his chin, pulling him into a bruising kiss, their teeth clacking, their noses mashing against each other. Annabeth can feel his jaw give under her pressure. She feels a little flutter of satisfaction at that. She’s always been the dominant sort, especially about Percy. She remembers a time when her greatest fantasy was to tattoo her name over his chest, so anyone who gazed at his nakedness would see her name. Her mark.

It’s a moment before she pulls away. Percy’s lips are pink from the pressure and Annabeth is sure hers aren’t much better. “You are mine. I am yours. And no  _ bitch--”  _ She looks across the beach to where Calypso is staring down at the waves, still refusing to acknowledge them, “--is going to get in the middle of that.”

“I won’t let her get in the middle of us,” Percy pants. “But I will ask you not to sling wild insults at her. She’s been through enough.”

Annabeth grumbles, looking over at Calypso. Calypso still won’t look at her. “... Fine.” She turns back to Percy and leans in again, touching her lips to his jaw, sucking hard on the skin. Her teeth sink into the soft flesh, it’s warm and a little salty and tastes Elysian. Her tongue laves over his skin and she sucks harder, pulling more and more of his skin into her mouth. She doesn’t stop until he’s whimpering. There’s something poking at her thigh where she’s got it pressed against him, she doesn’t care to think about what it is. Percy’s almost eighteen. He knows his own body well enough to handle it.

She releases him, her lips making a wet  _ pop  _ as the suction breaks. Percy gives a shaky gasp. His pupils were dilated beyond anything she’d ever seen. She studies the wet print she’d made on his neck. The skin beneath is bright red and she can see her teethmarks. With a growing satisfaction, she realizes he’s gonna have a bruise tomorrow. A hickey. A mark she put on him. A claim to him, his body, his soul, his warmth.

She can’t help but smile a little at the thought.

“Go take care of yourself,” Annabeth murmurs, low in her throat. “You need it. I can feel it.”

Percy blushes hotly, finally seeming to realize how close their bodies really are. “Uh… yeah. Yeah, of course.” He fiddles with the hem of his shirt.

Annabeth sighs. “Here. Tie my sweatshirt around your hips. That’ll do well enough.” She takes off her sweatshirt and holds it out to him.

He takes it and ties it around himself, skittering off. Annabeth lets herself laugh.  _ He’s so awkward. Well, he’s not even quite eighteen yet. He’ll get better. Besides, it’s up to you to make him a man. _

_ And no bitch will get in the way. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HC that Annabeth really, really likes giving Percy hickeys. Especially ones that are in places that are awkward to hide.


	134. Implied Apollo/Hermes, mentioned Dionysus/Ariadne-Foolish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dionysus gets an emergency call. Turns out, Hermes is in a lot of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna be honest, there's mentions of, like, three different ships at least for Hermes in this. Dude's a chad.
> 
> Warnings for mentions of sexual assault (but nothing happens, as per usual), violence and gore, mentions of alcohol withdrawal, mentioned/past (fairly extreme) violence against a romantic partner, slight victim blaming?
> 
> Also for the dude who asked for more Dionysus, but not entirely.

_ Slam!  _

Chiron jumped, bow already drawn. “Who goes there?”

Dionysus held up his hands. “Don’t be rash, old man. It’s only me. Can I ask a favor of you?”

Chiron took a deep breath, trying to bring down his blood pressure. “Gods. Don’t sneak up on me. And it depends on what the favor is.”

“Just watch the idiots for me for a few. I have an appointment to keep,” Dionysus sighed. 

“What… what kind of appointment?” Chiron raised a brow.

Dionysus’s lips flattened into a line. “I just received a call from my dear brother. The only comprehensible words were ‘bleeding out.’ I believe I am needed.”

Chiron’s eyes widened in alarm. “What? Which brother?”

“Same fucking one who always pulls this horseshit. I’m going to go now. Keep ‘em alive for me. Zeus gets mad if they die preventable deaths.”

Chiron still didn’t know who that was. “... Will do,” he sighed. “I’m gonna go… make some tea, I think.” 

“You do that.” Dionysus vanished, leaving a few odd leaves in his wake. 

  
  
  


The first thing he smelled was ichor. 

The thick, almost sickly sweet smell filled his nose as soon as he crashed down into the wooded roadside. His godly senses told him he was somewhere around the border of Pennsylvania and New York, out in the middle of nowhere.  _ Great. How did this gremlin wind up here?  _

He pushed his way into the thick line of trees, looking down. “... Hermes?” he called. “Brother? Where are you?”

A rough groan echoed from a few feet away. Dionysus picked his way down, pushing aside brush and rocks. His eyes fell on a pale hand. He touched it, tickling the palm with one gentle finger. “Hermes?”

“... Dio?”

Dionysus pushed aside some more brush until he saw Hermes’s face. He’d ditched the more middle-aged affect he often wore. He looked younger, smooth skin and lithe body. Thick dark curls swirled loosely around his face. He was deathly pale, almost. His eyes were idly fluttering open and shut. His body glowed with ichor, shimmering wetly over his clothes, which were some simple mortal junk. “What the hell happened to you?”

“You came.” A small smile painted Hermes’s pale lips. 

“Why the hell did you call  _ me?”  _ Dionysus grabbed Hermes’s now-smallish body and hauled him out of the brush, laying him on the side of the road. “Fucking Tartarus, I can’t even tell where you’re bleeding from. You should have called Apollo.”

“He’s not… talkin’ to me.” Hermes wheezed a breath. “Dunno why.”

“Did you put snakes in his underwear drawer again? Or did you just sleep with another one of his lovers? Because if we’re slurping Polly’s sloppy seconds, then I’d like a slice of the pie. It’s been twenty fucking years.” Dionysus pored over Hermes’s body, trying to find the source of the ichor.

“... Nuh uh. I was like… think fast! and then I threw Martha at him.” Hermes made some hand gestures to accompany his words, but they were weak and dull.

“So… you know this man hates snakes… despises them, thinks they’re the scariest thing alive, gave you a staff with snakes on it because of that… so what do you do? Throw a snake at him?”

“... Was funny,” Hermes wheezed. “He pissed himself a little. It was funny.”

“Yeah. You know what’s not funny? Fucking this!” Dionysus gestured up and down Hermes’s body. “I mean, what the hell even happened?”

“... Ah, man, you know… what happened,” Hermes panted. 

“I told you, you better fucking stay away from Donna. You’ve had two with that broad already. She almost killed you the last time. You flew into Olympus with ichor jetting all over the place. You would have faded if Apollo hadn’t intervened. Zeus was ready to let you go,” Dionysus chided. “Now come. I will take you to Olympus. Apollo  _ will  _ help you. He must.”

Hermes only nodded. 

Dionysus picked him up. He was light as a feather, his wings hung limp around his ankles and head. His cap had been disguised as a baseball cap. He was wearing it backwards. Dionysus almost laughed. Didn’t Hermes know that that hadn’t been popular since the nineties?

He vanished. He felt a sudden peace as he touched down in front of Apollo’s temple on Olympus. Coming back to Olympus always felt good. He felt a sudden tug of longing, wanting to run back to Ariadne, steal a hug, even a brief kiss. Even a small touch of her hand would be enough to sate him. 

But no. He had a mission. He could steal away to his wife later. If he let Hermes fade or scatter because of this, Zeus would never let him hear the end of it. Hell, he might double his sentence at Camp Half-Blood. A shudder passed through him at the thought.

He let go enough of Hermes to knock at Apollo’s door. He could hear the thudding of a bass drum through the wall. It gave him pleasant flashbacks to the nightclub scene he had frequented before his sentence. Unfortunately, the pleasant feelings didn’t last long. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew how loud the music had to be in order for it to be throbbing all the way through the temple.

He knocked harder. “Polly!”

No answer.

Hermes tugged on his sleeve. “Dio.”

Dionysus looked down. Hermes’s sandals were fluttering, keeping him reasonably horizontal. “What do you want?”

Hermes presented something to him with shaking hands. “Lock… pick.”

Dionysus took it. “I wish you were as smart with women as you were with crime, you know that?”

Hermes only grunted in response. 

Dionysus picked the lock, clumsily and inexpertly. It was nearly miraculous he got it open at all. But he did, somehow, and soon he was scaling the shining gold stairs up to Apollo’s quarters.

Apollo’s bedroom door wasn’t even closed. The music was earsplitting. Dionysus, realizing he wasn’t going to get anywhere if he just tried to knock or shout, walked right in. Apollo was dancing wildly, freely, his loose golden curls flying around his face. His eyes were closed, a small smile possessing his lips. Dionysus admitted, albeit grumpily, that the guy had some moves.

He kicked off the radio. Apollo skidded to a stop. He looked over, blushing before a look of horror took over his face. “What? How?”

“Who the fuck plays ‘Carry On Wayward Son’ that loudly, anyway?” Dionysus grumbled.

“So sue me for trying to lose myself,” Apollo huffed. He was out of breath. Dionysus could see the sweat shining on his forehead, his neck. “But that’s not the point. How did… what’s going on here?” He ran across the room to where Dionysus was standing. “Who hurt him?”

“That broad he can’t stay away from,” Dionysus huffed. “Donna.” 

Apollo looked over Hermes. He’d fallen unconscious, whether it was from pain, exhaustion or ichor loss he couldn’t quite tell. “Donna… Stoll?”    


“The one and only,” Dionysus grumbled. “Also, you smell…”

“... Enticing? Pleasantly masculine?” Apollo gave him a seductive sort of smile. “Sweetly athletic?”

“Indescribably awful.”

Apollo pouted. “Wow, thanks. Now, will you give him to me? I must heal him. He is losing a lot of ichor.” He traced a finger over Hermes’s pale cheek with a near-foreign tenderness. 

Dionysus deposited Hermes in Apollo’s waiting arms, grimacing slightly at the ichor that stained his shirt. 

Apollo held Hermes, moving him across the room and depositing him in his bed. “Oh, little one, why are you so foolish?” He gently pulled off Hermes’s sandals, then his cap, then his shirt, sucking a breath at the state of the wounds. “Your taste in women is almost as horrific as your taste in dwellings.”

Dionysus couldn’t help but investigate. He crossed the  _ enormous  _ bedroom--like, seriously, whose bedroom had an entire dance floor in it?--and peeked over Apollo’s shoulder. Now that Hermes was fully shirtless, Dionysus could see the wounds a lot better. There were maybe four in all, all torn and ragged at the edges. They were all swollen and puffy.

“... Dagger,” Apollo whispered. “Yup, that’s Donna. Who the hell let her have that thing?”

“That would be our local friendly centaur,” Dionysus huffed. “Chiron gave it to her because she said she wanted to give it to her boys. Well, Connor and Travis clearly never received it.”

Apollo closed his eyes. He lay one large warm hand over the worst wound, right over Hermes’s heart. His lip trembled slightly. 

Dionysus realized, with a sickening clarity, that if Hermes weren’t immortal, that wound would have killed him. “Don’t start crying now. It won’t help anything.”

“How can you not?” Apollo whispered. He moved his hand to the next wound, low on his stomach. It was the widest wound, a giant slash. “... An attempt to disembowel, right here,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Dionysus saw that the skin had knitted shut, forming a light pink scar over Hermes’s heart. He could see the wound on Hermes’s belly doing the same thing. “Do you not think I want to cry as well? This is our brother. He is as infinitely dear to me as he is to you. I am just saying, Hermes’s heart is probably as broken as his body. He needs warmth and comfort, not you crying on him.”

Apollo moved his hand again, up to his collarbone. The knife had been struck through him with such force that the small bone had cracked. “... Yes, of course, brother,” he murmured. He leaned a little closer to Hermes. “... Oh, my little bird. So much suffering you have endured.”

“That’s a nice little poem. Have you given up haikus for couplets?”

Apollo didn’t respond. He touched on the final wound, on his thigh, near his hip. He could imagine why there was a wound there. He’d never met Donna Stoll, only barely knew what she looked like, but he could imagine a cruelly smiling woman telling Hermes  _ there, I’ll keep you from ever feeling pleasure. _

The thought made his heart ache. He stroked Hermes’s hair, gently, once the wounds had healed. Hermes was still unconscious, his eyelids furrowed slightly even in sleep. Slow tears ran down his temples. Apollo brushed them away with one large, soft hand. 

“It’s his subconscious,” Dionysus explained, as if he was able to read his mind. “He was really cocky the whole time I was rescuing him, so his mind is expressing all the pain he wasn’t willing to show before now that he’s asleep. It’s healthy. Allow him to weep.”

Apollo pressed a kiss on Hermes’s forehead. “What if I wish to soothe him?”

Dionysus gave a small sigh. “That’s noble of you, but weeping will be the most soothing for him in the long run. It’s like vomit. It only hurts more if you hold it in.”

“You’re gross,” Apollo grumped, brushing more tears from Hermes’s cheeks. 

“I’m truthful,” Dionysus shrugged. “You, out of everyone, should appreciate that.”

Apollo sighed. “I do appreciate it. Your metaphors are just so…  _ lowbrow.”  _ He wrinkled his nose.

“Would you prefer I compare it to a fair summer’s day?”

Apollo shot Dionysus a dirty look. “I don’t like you.”

Dionysus was smirking slightly. “You love me. Don’t deny it.”

Apollo closed his eyes. He lay his head on Hermes’s newly healed chest, feeling the warmth of his skin against his cheek. He could feel his heart beating, restored and healthy.  _ Thank the Fates.  _ “You’re right. I love you both. More than anything.” He touched his chest. “Well, there’s Artemis. But save her, you two are…” He swallowed hard. “You two are precious to me.”

Dionysus swallowed the lump in his throat. “... Thank you.”

Apollo looked up at him, softly smiling. “Your lip trembles, brother. Why?”

Dionysus sighed, rubbing his beard to ground himself. “I’m all right. Just a tad misty. You’re very complimentary, Polly.”

Apollo wiped more tears from Hermes’s eyes. “You’re welcome.”

Dionysus sat down next to Apollo. “No problem. How is… how is Hermes now?”

“He is restored. He will live.”

Dionysus let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “... Yes. Thank you. You are… you are very kind. Thank you for your forgiveness.”

“He’s difficult to stay mad at,” Apollo explained simply. “Despite the humiliation he forced me to suffer, I am not angry.”

“Did you actually piss on yourself?” Dionysus asked suddenly, leaning back against the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“None of your business,” Apollo grumbled.

“So… yes?”

“I  _ said,  _ it’s none of your  _ business!”  _ Apollo’s voice crescendoed into a shout. 

Dionysus held up his hands. “Hey now, brother, it’s…”

His voice was cut off by Hermes giving a loud whimper. His eyes fluttered open, bright blue-greens focusing in on Apollo’s face, then Dionysus’s. “... Polly?”

“I’m here,” Apollo whispered, brushing tears from Hermes’s eyes. 

“Why ‘m I cryin’?” Hermes asked, reaching up to touch his soaked temples.

“It’s your subconscious,” Dionysus cut in. “You didn’t show any pain when I rescued you, so it came out in your sleep. It happens sometimes when people are repressing things.”

Hermes gave a small groan. He traced his fingers over his chest. A vague look of peace fell on his features when he felt no pain. His chest was slick with ichor still, it had pooled over Apollo’s hands, his sheets. It was smeared across his face, making him look even more golden. “... Polly, I…”

“You?”

“... I don’t deserve you,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Apollo rolled his eyes. “You’ve always been like this, my little one. If you were not pranking, tricking, thieving and scheming, then I would worry you were ill. Now, who did this to you? Dionysus said it was Donna again.”

Hermes got a faraway look in his eyes. “... Yes. It was. I… I thought it would… I thought I could make peace.” He took a deep breath. “... She was not ready for that.”

“I told you never to see her again,” Apollo lamented. “She’s trouble, man. Hermes, I…” His voice broke. He pressed a kiss to Hermes’s forehead once more, his lips trembling against the flesh. “I love you,” he whispered. “I could not bear to see you scattered like Kronos across the Pit. It would injure me beyond injury.”

Hermes reached up and held Apollo’s arms, needing to establish an equilibrium between them, needing to touch. “... I love you too,” he finally managed.

Dionysus shifted. Hermes and Apollo had always been a bit more physical than other gods. Dionysus had always secretly wondered if they weren’t maybe a bit more than friends and brothers. He’d never spoken on it out loud. It wasn’t his place to meddle.

He took a deep breath. “You need to find another lover, man. I know you’ve got more kids than any of us, but you need something to help you get over May.”

Hermes’s response was immediate. He lunged from under Apollo’s body, falling to the floor. “No! No! May would never hurt me that way! May is wonderful, loving, tender, beautiful, and  _ dead!”  _ His voice broke. “She’s dead! She died cold and alone in a crumbling building set for demolition because she spent so long without eating or sleeping or even  _ sitting down  _ that her heart simply gave up. And you have the  _ nerve  _ to imply, even for a second, that she is the cause of  _ this?”  _ He gestured wildly around at the ichor-stained room. Tears broke free and rolled down his cheeks.

Dionysus touched Hermes’s shoulder. “Peace, brother. I wasn’t implying May hurt you.”

Hermes shuddered and closed his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice came frail and shaky. “... Then what… what were you implying?”

“You ran back to Donna to try to forget about May, because you love Donna, even though Donna despises you. My reasoning is thus. You did not take another lover after May died, and when your needs finally overwhelmed you, you ran back to the girl you’d had two with  because staying with what’s familiar hurts less than trying to move on even though it almost killed you,” Dionysus sighed. 

Hermes stared at the ground for a long time. Finally, he whispered “Apollo, will you get me a mop? I will clean your floor for you. I owe you one.”

“No need, brother,” Apollo soothed. He waved his hand and a mop magically moved to clean the floor. The sheets removed themselves and were instantly replaced with fresh ones.

Dionysus reached out and patted Hermes’s hand. “Back to what I was saying. Hermes, you need to move on. I know. The grief aches. I lost a son in that war.” He clenched his jaw bitterly, his mind full of memories of two happy boys reduced down to one quiet, reclusive, shattered one. “But… it’s not good for you to cling to things forever. It’s okay to cry and scream and hurt, but you cannot torture yourself with it forever. You must find new lovers, and I must have new sons. We are immortal. Our world turns indefinitely. If you do not let go of grief, you wind up becoming just like Apollo here.”

Apollo scowled over at him. “And why do my issues matter? I am allowed to grieve, am I not?”

“You are. But for  _ three thousand and seventy-one years?” _

Apollo stared at the ground. “... Just shut up.”

Dionysus gave a small huff. “Yes, sir. Anyway, Hermes, did you hear me?”

Hermes stared at his hands, folded nervously in his lap. “Yes. I did. And… look, I get where you’re coming from, but that’s easier said than done. Look, I can promise not to go running back to Donna. That I can do.”

“That’s also exactly what you promised me the first time Donna tried to have you offed,” Apollo pointed out. “You know, just for the record.”

“No, I mean it this time.” Hermes graced his fingers over the new scars, pink against his tanned skin. “I’m not gonna go running back to her. Ever.” His voice broke. “Not in any form.”

“Finally we got somewhere with you,” Dionysus grumbled. 

Hermes ignored him. “Anyway, I can promise not to go back to Donna. I can move on from her and our sordid little romance. But May? No, you do not move on from a woman like May. And I can say with confidence that you have never loved someone that much, Dio.”

“You’re right,” Dionysus nodded. “My greatest love is immortal, and there’s not much heat in my mortal flings. I can’t say I understand what you’ve gone through with May. I’m just trying to bring back Hermes the prankster god. There can only be one aching heart on Olympus and it’s Apollo. We need your cheer, Hermes. Especially now that I’m not here to get drunk and make an idiot of myself in public.”

Hermes gave a small nod. “... I know. And I try. I really do. It’s just… it’s very hard.”

Apollo put a hand on Hermes’s back. “It’s okay, brother. I know you can’t be happy all the time. I’m here for you if you’re unable to smile. I’ve always told you that, little one.”

Hermes gave a small nod. “I know what you desire to do, Apollo.”

Apollo sensed that his words hadn’t brought Hermes the comfort he’d intended them to. “Why do you not believe me?”

“You were mortal for months, Apollo. Do you have any idea how many times I could have used your warmth and kindness then?” Hermes’s voice trembled.

Apollo looked down. He rubbed circles over Hermes’s back. “... I’m so sorry, my little bird. It was… it was beyond my control. I’m sorry.”

Hermes looked over at Apollo. His blue-green eyes shone wetly. He leaned in and wrapped his arms around Apollo, clinging to his neck. Apollo reciprocated in the same soft way he always returned embraces from those he loved, sweetly cradling Hermes against his chest. Hermes pressed his face into Apollo’s shoulder, his breath hitching and hiccuping as he was held. 

“... It’s not fair,” Hermes whimpered finally.

“Nothing’s fair,” Dionysus murmured. “Father is unconcerned with fairness. He does as he pleases.” He patted Hermes’s back. “But we’re all right now. Apollo has been restored. Don’t worry now about what’ll happen in the future. For now, you’re here, Apollo’s here and you’re all right.”

Hermes took a deep breath. “... Yes. I should… I should remember that. My apologies. I just… I’m a bit… off. I’m immensely tired.” He pulled away slightly, still resting against Apollo. His eyes were half-lidded, his mouth was drawn into a small, distressed frown. “And I can’t feel anything. I should be furious. I should be rushing off to smite Donna in ten thousand different ways. But I’m not. I can’t bring myself to despise her on any end. I had two kids with this woman. She tried to kill me twice. She almost succeeded twice. But I can’t feel a fucking thing for her. No love, no hatred, no nothing. It’s so weird. I had two kids with her and I can’t feel anything for her. I only ever had one with May, but she still… she still… She's still like an open sore on my heart and I don’t know why.”

Apollo kissed Hermes’s dark curls. “If May had not… gone mad, would you have had more with her?”

“... I think I would, yes,” Hermes murmured. “She was so… comfortable, I guess, just to be with, just to sit by. Being with her felt like coming home. She was all warmth and reassurance all the time. And I… I  _ needed  _ that. Even pre-war, I needed that… that kindness, that love.” His eyes became unfocused. His lip trembled. “... It hurts.”

Apollo squeezed him a little tighter, brushing away the tears. “I know, my little bird.” He looked over at Dionysus. “You deal in emotional pain. Can you do anything for his heart?”

Dionysus puffed his cheeks. “I deal in insanity, Apollo. I am afraid that dear Hermes is quite sane. It hasn’t been a full decade since May died. You know how long a god’s grief can last. There is no magic that will take away what Hermes feels now. I am very sorry.”

He pretended not to notice when Hermes and Apollo wrapped each other back up in a desperate embrace, tears flooding down both of their cheeks.

  
  
  
  


It felt like an eternity before Hermes pulled away.

He wiped his eyes on his hand and looked between Apollo and Dionysus. “... Thank you.” His voice was rough. “For everything. I mean it. I know you both have other things you should be doing. And I know I’m reckless and dumb. But I’m… I’m very grateful.”

Apollo swallowed thickly, drying his own tears. “... You are not dumb, little bird. Reckless, yes. But not dumb. And I don’t mind helping you with pain, physical or emotional.”

Dionysus looked up from where he was half-asleep, leaning against Apollo’s bed. “Yeah, Herm. What he said.”

“How eloquent of you, Dio,” Hermes teased. 

“Oh, shut up,” Dionysus grumped. “Is this how you treat your rescuers?”

“Only if they’re you two,” Hermes replied.

Dionysus huffed. “Yes, yes. We don’t deserve your respect. We understand that. You don’t have mine either.”

“... Wow,” Hermes grumbled. “Harsh.”

“It’s not that bad,” Dionysus reassured. “You have my friendship and brotherhood. I just don’t respect you.”

“... Thanks, bud,” Hermes sighed. He traced his fingers over his chest once more, sending little flakes of dried ichor tumbling to the floor. “... I might go clean up. Apollo, you should too.” He gestured to where Apollo’s shirt had been thoroughly smeared over with his ichor.

Apollo looked down, giving a sheepish grin. “I suppose I should, little bird. Would you like to use my facilities? I don’t want you leaving just yet. I just want to make sure the healing really worked.”

Hermes blushed slightly. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

Apollo smiled, a real smile. “Thank you, my little one.” He kissed Hermes’s forehead, to which Hermes only chuckled.

Dionysus gave a suggestive eyebrow wiggle, staring over at Apollo.

Apollo caught his eye. “It isn’t what you think, Dio, I can promise you that.”

“How do you know what I think it is?” A small smile played at his lips.

“Because I know you,” Apollo sighed. “But seriously, my intentions with Hermes are pure. We’re going to get him bathed, get him dressed and get some food and drink in him. After that, he should be just fine.”

Dionysus shrugged. “Nah. I trust you. But Hermes, just remember, you’ve got my number and location. If he gets handsy, call me. I’ll bail you out. No one else even has to know.”

Hermes only laughed. “I think if Apollo truly desired to ravish me, he would have done it by now. Unless those trials so injured his mind that he can’t tell the difference between right and wrong, then I don’t have any cause for concern.”

“Good.” Dionysus nodded. “Now, Hermes, if you’re safe and comfortable, then I think I should leave. Just before Father somehow finds out that I’ve come back without permission.”

Hermes reached out. “Can I get a hug before you split?”

Dionysus huffed. He gave Hermes a quick back-patting hug. Hermes melted against him easily. He allowed Hermes to hold onto him for a moment, linger against him, cuddle in. It wasn’t another second before he pushed Hermes away, not harshly. “All right. That’s enough time for a hug between two friends.”

Hermes pouted, turning back to Apollo, who placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He didn’t reply.

Apollo chuckled warmly. “Come on, little bird. Let us forget about him. You need to wash up.” He pushed himself to his feet, pulling Hermes up with him. 

“Sounds nice,” Hermes murmured, leaning slightly into Apollo.

Apollo turned back, suddenly, his cornflower blue eyes wide like he’d suddenly remembered something. “Hey, Dio, how do you feel…” He trailed off, gesturing to his stomach, his head.

“How do I… oh. Yeah. It’s… um… maybe a little better?” Dionysus gave an awkward chuckle. “I mean, I can keep food down. I can walk without falling. I can wake up without feeling like there’s an enraged nymph banging around in my skull. It still  _ hurts,  _ but it’s not agonizing.”

Apollo smiled warmly. “Tell me if you need any more healing, okay?”

Dionysus gave a hissy laugh, mostly through his teeth. “Will do, Polly.”

“Thank you.” Apollo gave a nod, wrapping an arm around Hermes’s waist. “I’m gonna go get our little bird cleaned up now.”

“Right. I’ll go. Also, Hermes, should I tell Chiron about this, or should I make something up?” 

Hermes shrugged. “Just say I got caught in a jet engine or something. Don’t say it was Donna. I don’t want to distress Travis and Connor.”

“Right, of course,” Dionysus nodded. “I didn’t even think of them.”

“Good thing I did, then.”

“It is,” Dionysus agreed. “Anyway, I must take my leave. I hope your day gets better from here.”

Hermes laughed. “I think it will, brother.”

Dionysus shook his head. “I’m glad you’re happy.” He disappeared in a whirl of leaves.

  
  
  


He crashed down in the Big House living room, sufficiently making Chiron jump all the way out of his wheelchair.

“Twice in one day,” he grinned, almost self-congratulatory. “New personal record.”

_ “Please  _ stop that,” Chiron groaned. “I may be immortal, but it will still hurt if I have a heart attack.”

Dionysus shrugged. “All right, all right, I’m sorry.”

“Anyway,” Chiron replied brightly. “How did rescuing your ‘same brother who always pulls this’ go?”

“Fine. Hermes had an incident with a jet engine. He got nicked up pretty bad. I got him to Apollo and he’s fine now. Apollo’s taking care of him.”

Chiron’s eyes widened. “Gods. Poor Hermes. That sounds… unimaginably agonizing.”

“He was brave about it. Did really well,” Dionysus shrugged. “And he’s okay now. So… no emergency. Balance is restored.”

Chiron shook his head. “Good. Thank you and thank Apollo.”

Dionysus shrugged. “It’s all right. Thank  _ you  _ for keeping anyone from dying while I was gone.”

Chiron laughed. “Thank Will for that, not me. He’s the healer now. I just step in if he’s overwhelmed, injured or ill.”

Dionysus sighed. “I don’t feel like doing Mr. Shoelace any favors. I’ve done my good deed for the year. Call me back next summer.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Chiron replied drily. “Would you care to go play pinochle?”

Dionysus shrugged. He looked around at the relative peace of the Big House living room. “Perhaps I shall,” he sighed. “It’s been a long day.”

“I could imagine,” Chiron said soothingly. “Go have a soda and play some cards. I can see you’re tired.”

Dionysus gave the same hissy laugh he’d given to Apollo just a moment before. “You know me too well, Chiron. I shall do just that. Keep the gremlins out of my hair. I don’t feel like dealing with them right now.”

“... Will do,” Chiron sighed.

And with that, Dionysus vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't be the only one that remembers Dionysus has a wife, right?


	135. Dionysus/Ariadne-Rescuer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo is mortal. Dionysus is suffering terribly for it. He is kept on Olympus, ordered not to come into contact with his older brother, and suffering from severe alcohol withdrawal with no hope of healing.
> 
> Fortunately, his wife is there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for withdrawal, vomiting, headaches, fainting, dizzy spells, minor mentions of disabilities, brief mention of implied underaged sex. 
> 
> Also, I'm sorry if Ariadne comes off as a sort of generic bimbo here. She's only mentioned in the PJO series, she never actually shows up, so I only know her from what I recall of the original myths.

Ariadne woke to the sound of her husband’s whimpers.

That was unusual. Dionysus was usually one of the more cheerful gods, or in his more morose moments, at least one of the more stoic. She was not used to hearing him cry, small groans breaking from him as his agonized subconscious broke through him in flashes of wet emotion. She rolled over in their shared marriage bed and rubbed circles on his back. “Dio?”

He snorted, as if waking. His body jerked. “... Ari?”

“Yes,” she murmured, leaning in to kiss his cheek. She’d demanded that, after their extended separation, he change back to his old youthful form. His hair was overlong, he was slimmer and clean-shaven. “It’s me.”

He struggled to turn over, a sob choking out of his throat. “... Ari? Why… why does… why does everything hurt?”

She sighed, gently pulling him close. His tears stained her soft cotton nightgown. “It’s withdrawal, love. You know what it is.”

“... Where’s ‘Pollo?”

Ariadne swallowed hard. “... He’s… indisposed,” she sighed. “Remember? That’s why you’re here and not at that hero camp.”

He nuzzled deeper into her chest. “... It’s not fair.” His voice broke. “... It hurts so, so much… please, Ari, take my pain away, I need… I just need relief, please…”

Ariadne sat up, carefully moving his head to the nearest pillow. “Shall I find you some pain medicine? I believe Hephaestus keeps some for when his leg troubles him.”

_ “Please,”  _ he groaned, gritting his teeth. 

She kissed his forehead gently, trying to press comfort directly into his aching head. “I will, my love.” She rose from their bed, drifting out of the room. She hoped only that Hephaestus had retired to his temple for that night. If he had spent the night in his forges, she had very little hope of finding him. She was immortal, yes, but she was ill-equipped to descend into the volcanic depths he frequented. 

She left the temple, clicking on a flashlight--what a lovely mortal invention!--to light her way. It was a quiet night, warm in late summer, and Olympus was nearly silent. It wasn’t a long walk to Hephaestus’s place, but it certainly wasn’t a convenient one. She hung a left through a thick twist of trees, her thin nightgown doing nothing to protect her from the scratchy branches. She gritted her teeth. Her husband--her  _ rescuer-- _ was in immense pain. She could bear a few scratches. She clambered down into a massive quarry, stumbling over sharp jagged rocks. It wasn’t another second before she heard someone clear their throat sharply. 

She looked up. Hephaestus stood before her, his crooked, bent nose making him look almost hostile. “... Oh, thank the Fates,” she sighed.

“What are you doing in my quarry?” he grumbled.

“I was trying to find you, sir.” She stood up, straightening to her full height, which wasn’t even close to Hephaestus’s. “You see, my husband has come down with a horrific case of withdrawal, he is in so much pain he weeps, please, you must help him! You  _ must!” _

Hephaestus raised his eyebrows. “And what do you expect  _ me  _ to do about it? In case you haven’t noticed, I fix machines, not people.”

“But do you not have pain medicine?”

Hephaestus sighed. He scanned her for a while. Her nightdress was torn. The look in her eyes was wild and desperate. He imagined that this was what she must have looked like when Dionysus had found her on that island so many thousands of years ago. Finally, he reached into his tool belt and pulled out a small green bottle. “Here. Fresh from Asclepius’s shop. I’ll split it with you half and half.”

Ariadne nearly fell to her knees. “Oh, thank you, thank you!” She grabbed his hand, pressing kisses over the back. A sharp, filthy, metallic taste filled her mouth, but she didn’t care. “You are the kindest and most merciful of gods, dearest brother-in-law.”

“Oh, spare me,” Hephaestus sighed, although the smile in his voice was obvious. He pulled his hand away and poured about half of the pills into a small baggie. “Have him take two of these. It should take away some of the pain.”

“I’ll repay you later,” Ariadne sighed. She cradled the baggie close to her chest. 

“Don’t bother,” he grumbled. “Is that the only reason for your arrival?”

She nodded.

“Then I will be off.” He hefted an immense piece of stone beneath his arm and turned, leaning heavily on his cane. “Goodbye, fair Ariadne.”

“Goodbye, dearest half-brother-in-law.” She turned, cradling the baggie to her chest and running back to Dionysus and her temple.

  
  
  


When she arrived, Dionysus was nowhere to be found.

Her stomach clenched. She tiptoed further into their shared quarters. “Dio? I have returned!”

No response. 

“Dio, my love? Where are you? I have your medicine!”

She heard a groan from the direction of their bathroom. She followed the sound. When she arrived, it was totally dark. She flicked on the dimmer of the two overhead lights only to find her beloved Dionysus sprawled on the cold, unforgiving tile, soaked in his own vomit. Her heart clenched. She ran to his side, kneeling, pulling him into her arms, somehow hauling him against her despite his larger size. His eyes were hazy and half-open. “Dio, love? Can you hear me?”

“... Ari,” he whimpered. He lay his head into her shoulder.

She stroked his hair. “What happened, love? Can you remember?”

“... Stomach,” he mumbled. 

“I can see that. Could you just not make it?”

“... Dizzy,” he mumbled. “So dizzy.”

_ He was too dizzy. He tried to make it but he was too dizzy.  _ “... I’m so sorry, love. Here, let me help you up. You need to bathe. I cannot stand to see you dirty.”

He grunted slightly. He moved, slowly, sitting up on his own. Sweat broke across his brow. He cried out, clutching his stomach. “Ari, I’m about to…!”

“Oh, gods, go quick!” She pushed him over to the toilet and he heaved, vomit pouring from his lips. She rubbed his lower back gently, feeling his whole body spasm under her hand. She kissed his neck, slowly, soothingly. “I’m so sorry, my sweet.”

He lay his head against the toilet seat. When his voice came, it was rough and dry. “... It hurts… it hurts so very much…”

“Here. Have some nectar, my love, and some pills. It will help. I promise you, it will help.” She extended a cup of nectar she’d poured earlier and pulled two of the pills from the baggie. 

Dionysus flopped bonelessly backwards. Ariadne only barely caught him, the nectar she held sloshing over her hand. She wrapped her legs around him, steadying him against her. She held the remaining nectar to his lips. He took a small sip from where his head hung on her shoulder, a shudder passing through his body.

“Is it not good?” she asked.

“... Stomach hurts.”

She kissed his shoulder. “Here, love, take this. It should help.” She put one of the pills to his lips. 

He whimpered, but accepted the medicine all the same. He drank down the first pill, his whole body shaking as he swallowed. 

She leaned in and kissed his neck, gently, her lips soft against his now-youthful skin. “Shh, shh, love, it’s okay. Deep breaths. You’re okay.”

He took a shuddery breath.

She pressed the one remaining pill to his lips. “Here, love. One more pill. Just one. You’re okay.”

He shook his head. “Mmh… please, I just… one moment… my stomach,  _ please…” _

She retracted her hand, putting the pill down on the baggie, which was next to her on the floor, and held him. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

He took a few more deep, shuddery breaths. He was shaking all over. Sweat soaked his brow, his neck, weighted down his hair, his thin nightshirt. She kissed him a few more times, over his neck, his shoulder. She traced patterns over his stomach, lightly, so as to not induce another bout of vomiting. “I’ve got you, love, I’m here.”

He swallowed slightly. It sounded painful. “... ‘M ready for the pill now.”

“Of course, love.” She put the pill to his lips and he accepted it, drinking down the precious medicine, less shakily this time. 

“... Need to lie down,” he croaked.

She patted her thigh. “Here. You have always loved my lap.”

He shifted, sinking down, almost falling over, his head hitting her thigh. His brow contorted slightly in pain and he buried his face in her stomach. She leaned in, pressing kisses over his forehead, his cheek. Touch seemed to bring some relief. His shudders eased slightly as she kissed him, stroking his hair, his shoulders. He held his stomach and melted into her lap.

It was a while before he spoke, his breath warm against her stomach. “... Where’s Chiron? Surely he is… he is not also…”

She gently rubbed his neck, two fingers pressing gently into the base of his skull. “He is at the hero camp, where he always is. I will summon him here tomorrow. He will help. Until then, the medicine will take away some of the pain.”

He nodded, nuzzling his face a little further into her stomach. “... When will it kick in?”

“Soon, love. Once you’re feeling a little better, we’ll get you in a nice bath. Would you like a cool one or a warm one? What would help the most?”

He struggled to roll onto his back. Ariadne took his shoulders and helped him move. He looked up at her, his wine-purple eyes shining with warmth despite the pain that glazed them. “Warm, but… could I have a cold cloth on my forehead, please? My head hurts so terribly.”

She touched her fingers to the top of the bridge of his nose, pressing gently on either side. “Of course, my sweet, I will do whatever brings you comfort.”

He took her hand, kissing her fingers. “You are as beautifully soft as the day we met, Ari. I am undeserving of this, truly, I am.”

“Why are you saying such tender things? Did you run off with another nymph?” She moved her hands to his temples, rubbing gently.

Dionysus managed a chuckle, but it was cut off by a wince. “No, no. Not since Zeus punished me.”

Ariadne kissed his forehead. “Thank you, love. You know how much I hate your infidelity.”

“You’re my sweetest girl, my most lovely woman.” His eyes drifted shut. “I’ve never loved someone even half as much as you.”

“As your wife, I’m overjoyed,” Ariadne replied drily, continuing to rub his temples. “Granted, I knew what I was getting into when I left that island with you. You didn’t exactly keep the fact that you ran a sex cult a secret.”

Dionysus grumbled. “My Maenads are  _ not  _ a sex cult. They have been my dearest followers since ancient times. They are so dedicated to me that I had to tell them not to hurt the demigods--they are enraged by my punishment, and it’s not like they can hurt Father, so they target the heroes, even though it is not their fault.” He took a deep breath. 

Ariadne laughed. “Well, I’m glad you’re not letting your little dears hurt your charges. Also, I’m glad you’re able to talk more easily now.”

Dionysus swallowed. “... I think the pain reliever is kicking in. I… it hurts less. Maybe it’s just your fingers, but… but I don’t know.”

Ariadne kissed his forehead. “I’m glad to be able to take some of it away. Any relief I can bring you… it’s worth it, my love, my husband, my  _ rescuer.” _

Dionysus managed a smile. “Thank you, wife, rescued. I am eternally grateful.”

Ariadne gently released from where she was rubbing his temples, stroking over his forehead. “I will draw you a bath now, if you will allow me.”

Dionysus nodded. 

She gently released him, pulling off her nightdress, balling it up and putting it beneath his head. It wasn’t much, but it made the landing a bit softer. She stood up, now only in panties, and turned on the water. She wet a cloth with the cool water that streamed out immediately and lay it on his head. He gave a soft moan of relief. She couldn’t help but smile.

She grabbed another rag and wiped up the puddle of his vomit. It reminded her of all those times he’d roll in drunk, exhausted from partying, smiling happily until the moment his stomach rebelled, crumpling down and spewing over himself. She used to despise it, used to wonder why in Tartarus he couldn’t find some place even marginally more appropriate to hurl then the floor of their shared bedroom, but over time she’d kind of become used to it. She cleaned it without complaint, mopped it without whining, and complained to him in the morning. He was the god of drunkenness. He didn’t get hungover. There was no need for morning nursing.

She turned back from the now-cleaned tile and washed her hands before checking the bathwater. It was warm, now, not so hot as to aggravate his aching head, but just warm enough to calm his spasming muscles. “Can you sit up, love? Just to test the waters?”

“... Help me up, please?”

She nodded. “Whatever you need.” She slipped her hands into his, pulling him up, carefully so to not aggravate his stomach. He groaned quietly, stumbling to his feet, leaning into her arms. She gently helped him down to the edge of the tub. 

He stuck one hand under the stream. It felt… comfortable. Warm, but not too warm. He smiled up at her. “This is good. Thank you so much.” 

“Do you need my help to undress?”

He thought. “No. What would really help would be if you called Chiron and summoned him.”

“Love, it’s the middle of the night. He’s probably not even awake.” She picked up her nightdress from where it lay on the floor, redressing herself. 

He leaned against the wall. “Ari, what I felt before… while you were with Hephaestus… that was the worst pain. It was  _ crushing.  _ I couldn’t even make it from the bed to the toilet to vomit. Ari, I…” He took a deep breath. “I never want to feel that again.”

She leaned in and kissed him, her lips soft on his. He tasted sweet, like nectar. “... I will see if I can reach him, but I cannot promise anything.”

Dionysus smiled, but it wasn’t that same captivating smile that drove people mad with want. It was weak and soft, almost dependent in a way. “Thank you, Ari. You mean the world to me.”

She chuckled. “Thank you, love. Now wash. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Yes,  _ Mother,”  _ he huffed.

She left the bathroom. She moved to their small fountain in the corner of their bedroom, pulling a drachma from their emergency bank. “Chiron. Camp Half-Blood. New York.”

The Iris-message flickered to life. Chiron was there, curled up in a pile of blankets. He seemed soundly asleep. A flannel nightshirt covered his human half. His horse half was covered by a fleece quilt. All in all, he looked quite peaceful.

“Chiron,” she called. “Wake up.”

Chiron snorted, lifting his head. He blinked. It took him a moment to realize who was on the line. “... Ariadne? Is something the matter?”

“It’s Dionysus. He’s fallen into a terrible state of withdrawal. He woke up nauseous and weeping. I have given him some painkillers, and he’s a bit better, but he’s… he’s  _ scared,  _ Chiron, I can see it in his eyes. Please, is there any cure?”

The worry lines around Chiron’s eyes deepened. “Zeus will not allow him to ingest alcohol. That is the common cure for withdrawal. There are a few more magical means I could try, but those wouldn’t be permanent. The painkillers you gave him will help with his head and stomach pains. I think you did the intelligent thing.”

Tears burned in the corner of Ariadne’s eyes. She swallowed hard. “... So… you can’t cure my love?”

Chiron looked down. “I can perhaps aid him. But as long as he remains cut off from drink, he will suffer. There is no way around it.”

“Please, aid him!” she begged. “He was in so much agony, Chiron, I…” Her voice was cut off by a desperate sob.

Chiron sat up. “Shh. Don’t cry. Take a breath. At sun’s light tomorrow, bring him to camp. I cannot leave my pupils. Until then, keep him comfortable. What were his symptoms, pray tell?”

“He woke sobbing, begging for pain relief. I went to borrow some painkillers off Hephaestus and when I got back, he’d…” She took a deep breath. “He’d had a spell of nausea. He tried to make it to the bathroom to vomit but he… he got too dizzy and he just… went down. I found him lying on the bathroom tile in a pool of his own sickness.” She brushed tears out of her eyes. “I medicated him and held him until it kicked in. He said his head ached, too. He is bathing now.”

Chiron drew a breath. “Well. That’s more extreme than normal. I’ve known him to be prone to headaches from it, some nausea and dizzy spells, but nothing more. I’ve never seen him vomit. This is… this is bad. And you said he just woke up like this?”

“Yes.”

“I have changed my mind. Bring him now. As soon as he finishes bathing. I will see if I cannot make him any more comfortable. Apollo is not here, so we do not have to worry about Zeus being upset.”

“Always a benefit,” Ariadne nodded. 

Chiron laughed despite himself. “You don’t know the half of it. Anyway, once he is done, bring him here. He will know where to go. Bring him to my chambers, not the main infirmary. I will do my best for him.”

Ariadne nearly laughed. A sudden lightness overtook her chest. “Thank you, thank you, Chiron, you are worth the world, you know that?”

Chiron laughed, in his typical warm, fatherly way. “Surely you jest. Do not flatter me in this way. Anyway, bring him to me as soon as possible. I must go dress. I will see you later.” He swiped through the Iris-message, leaving Ariadne alone in her and Dionysus’s shared bedroom.

She rose up off her heels, turning back to the bathroom. She knocked on the door. “Dio?” she called. “May I come in?”

“Come, Ari, please,” came a soft voice from the other side. 

She entered the bathroom. Dionysus lay with his head on the side of the tub, his body embraced by the water, the cool cloth wrapped around his head. “Love,” she cooed. “I called Chiron.”

“And?”

“He wants to see you as soon as you’re finished bathing.”

Dionysus looked up, a soft smile of relief tracing his lips. “Have I mentioned how much I love you recently?”

Ariadne perched on the edge of the tub, folding one tanned leg over the other. She gave him a coquettish smile. “No, please tell.”

Dionysus leaned his head against her hip. “You’re the sweetest. I do not deserve you at all. The fact that you are able to stand me, my lifestyle… it means so much to me. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes upon, and I’ve seen the prettiest of the prettiest.” He took a deep breath. “You bring me more pleasure than anyone, and I am the god of pleasure.”

She pet his hair. “You’re too kind, love.” She moved so she was level with his face, kissing softly over his lips. “I’m sorry you must suffer like this. I will do anything to ease the pain.” Her breath was warm over his face.

He sighed. “... Thank you, Ari. It means everything.”

She smiled. “Of course. I will leave you to wash. Please, call me if you need me.”

“I will, Ari.”

  
  
  
  


It wasn't too long before they were both satisfactorily clean and dressed. Ariadne put an arm around his hips, rubbing his back. “Can you teleport us there, love?”

Dionysus took a deep breath. “I can… do my best. But… I must change forms first. Chiron told me I can’t show my more youthful form to the campers. Something about sex scandals.”

Ariadne sighed. “But it hurts me to see you looking so old and run-down.”

“It is necessary.” He transformed into his more typical form, bearded and beer-gutted. “My apologies, dearest. I promise, next time we’re alone, I’ll make it up to you.”

Ariadne smiled, almost seductively. “I will look forward to it. Sometime when you’re not ill.” She kissed his cheek. “For now, Chiron’s quarters, please.”

He nodded. She felt the tug of teleportation run through her gut. Before she knew it, she was in the same simple room she’d seen in the earlier Iris-message. Chiron was waiting, now dressed a bit more presentably. “Hello, Dionysus, fair Ariadne. It’s been a while.”

“‘S been two months,” Dionysus groaned.

Chiron gave a low laugh. “You look tired, nephew. Would you like to go to your chambers? They are just how you left them.”

Dionysus looked longingly down at Chiron’s bed, that simple pile of blankets. He was weak and dizzy and he only wanted to curl up in it and go to sleep. “... Yeah. Sure. How long’s the walk?”

Chiron’s kind eyes furrowed with worry. “You really must not be feeling well.”

“I… it’s… the pain is better now, but I’m still sort of… I…” He swayed, stumbling a bit.

Chiron and Ariadne caught him before he could hit the ground. “Okay,” Chiron murmured. “Here. Ariadne, would you help him onto my back? I’m unsure he could make it up the stairs.”

She nodded. They grabbed him and hauled him over Chiron’s back. He hung awkwardly against Chiron’s human back, his legs dangling awkwardly off of the back of his equine side. Chiron walked carefully out of his little back room, Ariadne trailing behind him. He awkwardly hoofed it up the stairs, opening the furthest door on the right of a long hallway. Ariadne had a sudden mental image of Dionysus alone in the midst of his withdrawal, suffering terribly, moaning in pain in the most isolated room of the house. It made her heart ache.

It only got worse when she entered the bedroom. It was tiny, with one small twin bed in the corner. She didn’t want to imagine him sleeping alone in that tiny bed, cold, without anyone to hold him like he was so used to. She wanted to grab him in her arms and run away to somewhere beyond the sky, beyond Zeus, beyond everything. She blinked back another set of tears as Chiron lay him down. 

He gave Chiron a grateful nod. “Thanks, uncle.”

Chiron gave Dionysus a small smile. “It is no problem for me, Lord Dionysus. Now, would you like some healing?”

“Love some, thanks,” he murmured, letting his eyes fall closed.

Chiron lay his hand on Dionysus’s forehead. He took a deep breath. “Ariadne, if you would like to hold him, you may.”

She gently lay herself down next to him, holding him in her arms, burying her face in his neck. He was bearded in this form, and it tickled, and she hated it, but she couldn’t stop. She remembered how much pain she’d been in after Theseus had dumped her on that cursed island and held him that much tighter. 

Chiron began to hum softly, rubbing his fingertips over Dionysus’s forehead. Ariadne heard him sigh softly, he relaxed in her embrace. She kissed his neck, as tenderly as she could. She wanted to coo words of love to him, but she didn’t want to bungle up the healing magic, so she kept her mouth shut. Her soul ached for him. She didn’t dare do anything to jeopardize his peace.

It was a few moments before Chiron finished. He moved his hand from Dionysus’s forehead, breaking the thin peace that stretched the three. “... Better?” he asked.

“Much,” Dionysus sighed. “So much. Thank you, Uncle. You are a miracle worker.”

“I am no more of a miracle worker than you are. I just know some simple healing magic,” Chiron chided. “Now, would you deign to rest here, or will you return to your temple?”

“Whatever Ariadne wants,” he murmured. 

“Well,” she sighed,  _ “Lord Zeus  _ said you should stay on Olympus, so as to avoid accidentally helping Apollo. And I have so missed having you in our marriage bed, and this place looks so sad, and you being so run-down and depressed inside it is even sadder.”

“... I’ll go, I suppose.”

Chiron nodded. “Your prerogative. Ariadne, do you still have those painkillers?”

“Yes, I do.” She lifted her face from the curve of Dionysus’s neck.

“Good,” Chiron replied. “He will need them. The healing will wear off in a few weeks or so. Depending on what happens, I may or may not be able to assist. You may need to attend to his care yourself.”

“I’ve been attending to his care for thousands of years,” she attested, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “I can manage him now.”

Chiron nodded sagely. “I’m glad. Don’t get proud, though. That never ends well.”

“No, I’m very aware. I will do my best,” she nodded. “Dio, love?”

“Ari, dearest?” he responded. 

“Can you teleport us? Are you well enough?”

He took a breath. “I think I can manage, yes.”

“Good,” she smiled. “Thank you, Chiron. You are wonderful.” She rose off the bed, approaching Chiron. Chiron did not resist when she pressed a soft kiss into his cheek. “I will pay you back someday, I promise.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” he sighed. “It’s my pleasure. Now, take your hubby back to Olympus. He needs to rest as much as he can while he has no pain.”

“Of course,” she murmured. She took Dionysus’s hand. “Let us go, love.”

Dionysus took a deep breath before teleporting them back to Olympus. They tumbled into their bed, arms wrapped around each other. “Turn young, love,” Ariadne cooed, her lips right next to his ear.

He reverted back to his younger form, wrapping his now-youthful toned legs around her thighs. “Better, dearest?”

“Much better,” she cooed, pressing kisses over his face and neck. “Now, about that  _ making it up to me…”  _

“Ari, I just stopped feeling like I was about to fade!”

“I’ll go soft and gentle on you,” she promised. “Come, love, it’s been twenty years. At this rate, we’re going to outdo Odysseus and Penelope. And you know we probably don’t have much time.”

Dionysus shuddered slightly. “... Yes, I suppose so. I… just, please, be careful. I still feel a bit weak.”

Ariadne pressed a kiss against his lips, enjoying their softness. “Of course, love. I will never be anything but gentle with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite frankly, I don't even know where this idea came from. Their relationship is only mentioned once in the entire series. They have no scenes together. But I've spent the last 21 hours working on it off and on, and I stayed up all night, so I hope you appreciated.


	136. Non-shippy (mentions of Tratie, Chrisse)-Good Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's cranky. Travis wants to know why. It turns out there's more weight on Connor's heart than Travis thinks there is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of child abuse, unhealthy sibling relationships (this makes it sound more severe than it actually is, honestly), parental favoritism, low self-esteem, use of nicotine products, mentions of powers misdiagnosed as psychosis, mentions of anger blackouts, suicide attempts, mentions of sexual intercourse used as a solution to problems (it's only mentioned, there's no actual smut. Obviously).

“Why were you scowling so hard at Chris earlier?” Travis asked, looking over at Connor. They were standing on the balcony of Cecil’s New Roman apartment. Travis was half-suckling on a vape pen. The steam trickling out his nose made him look like a dragon. 

Connor looked over at him. He took a deep breath. He couldn’t quite place why the rage had suddenly burst into his chest. He’d been standing by Travis, watching him talk to Chris, when suddenly he’d felt a massive itch of irritation inside. “... I… um… I don’t really know.”

Travis sighed. He took another deep puff off the pen. A long breath of steam blew from his lips. “Now that I’m thinking about it, you do that to almost everyone I get close to. Chris, Katie, everyone. What the hell is your problem, Con-con?”

Connor swallowed. He stared over the rail, looking at the street below. People milled about, going about their lives. It looked so… _normal._ He took a breath. “I don’t have a problem, Trav.”

“Yes you do! You’re trying to cut me off from the world! Connor, I can’t be all yours!” He huffed hard through his nose, sending more curls of steam around his face. “I have needs, Con-con. Needs that you can’t fill. Needs that, if I tried to make you fill them, I’d be an awful, awful person. I need to have other people. Connor, _you_ need to have other people. I can’t be your world.”

Connor’s eyes stung. Travis never called him by his full name. “Right. Of course. I knew someone like you wouldn’t want to be around someone like me.”

Travis looked over at him, his brows furrowed. “Fuck you mean, someone like me?”

Connor swallowed thickly. Something wet and wobbly welled up in his chest. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

“Oh, no no no.” Travis blew a cloud of pineapple-scented steam at him. “It’s annoying enough when Katie pulls this shit. Don’t ‘nothing’ me.” He gave Connor an intense look, honey-brown eyes shining bronze in the fading light of sunset. “Connor.”

“You’re just better than me,” Connor blurted. “In every way. You were always the one with the big ideas. You were always the one with the charisma, with the people skills. You’ve got the girlfriend and the grades and the life. It’s like, oh, Con-con, meet my girlfriend! She used to hate me, but now she loves me, because I’m just that good with people! Oh, Con-con, come on! I have an idea for how to get us out of this klepto’s ‘rehab’ program, you wanna help me plan our great escape? Let's go on an adventure! Oh, Con-con, you know that schizophrenia I have? I don’t have that, it’s just a set of _literal godpowers!_ Great, right? Oh, Con-con, would you like my Head Counselor’s position? I don’t really want it anymore. Oh, Con-con, guess what? I’m going to college! Isn’t that cool? Oh Con-con, let me help _you_ get into college, too! Ain’t I a good brother? Ain’t I just so kind?” Tears spilled down his cheeks. “Oh, Con-con, I’m so sorry Mommy’s been hurting you! Here, let me clean your wounds. I got some ice cream, too! Don’t you just love me so much?” He wiped his tears on his hand, a wheezy moan breaking from his lips. “... I’m sorry.”

Travis was silent for a long time. “... Is that really what you think of me?”

Connor looked up at him. Pure horror was traced over his face. “... I’m sorry, Travis, I… when you took my hand… pulled me over the fence of that… that ‘rehab’ center… I felt almost like you never let it go. Like you’ve been pulling me along ever since. Like you’ve been just a touch ahead of me our entire lives.”

“... You’re younger than me, Con-co… Connor. I’ve been one step ahead of you developmentally our whole lives.” 

Connor didn’t think he’d ever heard Travis sound so _weak._ “No, I know. That’s not my point. You’re just better than I am. I mean, Mom liked you better, Chris likes you better, everyone just likes you better. You’re funny, interesting, likable. Kind. You’re so much nicer than me. If I don’t…” He swallowed. “If I don’t try and cling to you, you’re going to leave, and then where will I be? I… Travis, I _need_ you. If you’re not here, I don’t know what I’ll do. I literally wouldn’t even have a roof over my head.”

Connor heaved a breath and continued. “I’ve been told my whole life I don’t deserve you. Or more like you deserve better than me. And that… that _hurts,_ Travis, and I’ve buried it under six hundred layers of bullshit because I’m not good at dealing with stuff but it… gods, it just fucking _hurts.”_

Connor looked up. Travis’s eyes were wet. He was gasping softly.

“I’m seeing the tears welling in your eyes and I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you cry. For once in my life, I’m not trying to be an ass. I just…” Connor took a breath. “I can’t bear to lose you. To anything. Love, brotherhood with other brothers, death, anything. The year when you were in college and I wasn’t was the worst year of my life. Any time we’re not together is a bad time. And that’s why I’m cruel to Katie. That’s why I was scowling at Chris. Because I love you. In a warped and fucked up way, I love you.”

Travis didn’t respond. He put his hands over his face, pocketing the vape.

Connor closed his eyes. He couldn’t bear to see Travis cry in this way, weak and wet and breathy. “... I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, Trav.”

“... Who told you that?” Travis managed. “That you weren’t good enough to be my brother.”

Connor swallowed, staring at his shoes.. “Well, first it was Mom. Then later Luke said the same thing when we got in an argument one time. I guess… I guess I just took it to heart after Luke said it because… because two different people saying the same thing must make it true, right?”

The next thing he felt were Travis’s arms, pulling him into a tight embrace, pressing his face into his shoulder. He was gasping, Connor could feel him shaking against him. “... I love you,” Travis whispered, his voice quavering. “Oh, gods, Con-con, my baby. You’re so fucking precious, you know that? You’re everything to me. I love you. I love you so much. I’m not leaving. I’m not ditching you. I don’t think you’re not good enough for me. You’re my brother and you’re precious and I need you just as much as you need me. Just because I can’t have you fill my romantic and sexual needs doesn’t mean I don’t love you and need you for other things. And… do you know why I gave over my Head Counselor’s position to you?”

Connor reciprocated the hold. His eyes stung. “... I thought you were trying to play the nice guy and prep me for when you were gone.”

Travis was quiet for a moment. His breathing was heavy. His fingers tensed in Connor’s shirt. “... I had a breakdown.”

Connor was silent, encouraging Travis to keep going. “Luke’s ghost, he was… he was just kind of hanging around the cabin after Manhattan. And it was… too painful. Way, way too painful. So I… I just broke. I came up with this idea where… where I’d sleep with a girl in his bed. Remember how I bragged that I’d slept with Lou Ellen Blackstone? Yeah, that was it. Anyway, after she and I did it, I looked up and Luke was… was… he was just there. And I… I blacked out.” Travis’s voice broke. “And when I woke up… I’d tried to… I’d tried to slash my wrists.”

Connor felt like someone had directly punched him in the stomach. He tried to imagine Travis sitting on the floor in the Hermes cabin, shaking and sobbing, curled in on himself with Lou Ellen panicking in the background. He nested his face in Travis’s shoulder, clinging tighter to him. 

Travis continued. “... And after that, I was… I was so _scared._ I was scared I’d kill myself or hurt somebody else on accident. I was scared of myself, scared of my own head, scared of my powers, and scared to shit to tell anybody. I spent… I just slept the entirety of the next day. I guess I just figured that… that if I was asleep, I couldn’t hurt anybody. Eventually Chris caught on and… and I wound up confessing everything to him. He was so gentle with me. So kind. 

“That’s why he and I are close. Because he… he’s a really nice guy. A good person. He was the one who told me maybe I should consider stepping down. He said I was struggling with the weight of responsibility and… and if I got rid of some of the weight, I’d feel better. That’s why I handed over the responsibility. That’s the real reason. Not even to prep you. It was for my own selfish fucking reasons. I wasn’t trying to play the nice guy. I was just fucking scared and sad and selfish, and you paid for it, and I feel like crap for it. And I know I scared you with this, because I can feel you clinging to me, like you always do when you’re afraid. And I’m so, so sorry.” He took a deep breath, rubbing Connor’s back. “My baby Con-con.”

“... Travis, I…” Connor swallowed. Tears dripped into Travis’s sweatshirt. “You almost left me for good… and you never told me…”

“I’m so sorry,” Travis sniffled. “I… I didn’t mean to… I love you so much. Connor, I don’t want to die. I don’t have a death wish. I blacked out. I don’t remember a thing save for what Lou Ellen told me. I only even believed her because… because of the scars.”

“... Those scars on your arms,” Connor gasped. “That’s what they’re from. You weren’t ambushed. You had a meltdown.”

“... I’m so sorry,” Travis whispered. “I’m so so fucking sorry.”

“I know.” Connor took a deep breath. “It’s… it’s okay. I mean, it almost makes me feel good. It makes you seem just a little less perfect.”

“I’m not perfect, Con-con. You know that. You’ve seen me fuck up. You’ve seen me make mistakes-- _big_ mistakes.”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure you would have put the landmines on the right hill,” Connor sighed.

“Wait, I thought _I_ picked the hill,” Travis replied. 

“No, it was me. I was the one who realized the mistake, that’s why you think you must have picked the hill.”

“And I went along with it because I love you, and trust you, and you’re one of the smartest guys I know,” Travis chuckled. “You’re not less than I am. You’re way, way smarter than me.”

Connor sighed. “... Thanks,” he murmured, pressing himself closer to Travis. “... I love you.”

Travis pulled away slightly, kissing his forehead, soft as a blessing. “I love you too, Con-con. I’m not leaving you. I don’t think you’re not as good as me. I don’t think you’re worth any less than I am. I don’t think you’re undeserving of my kindness.” Travis put his fingers under Connor’s chin, pulling it up, looking him in the eyes. “You’re my brother. That’s a role no one else will ever fill. Not Chris, not Cecil, not anyone. I know you can be harsh. I know you’re not always the nicest. But that doesn’t make me love you any less. That doesn’t make you any less important to me. I don’t blame you for being hard. You’ve been through so much pain that you had to be.” He pressed another kiss into Connor’s forehead, so tenderly Connor’s heart ached.

Connor took a deep breath, taking in the feeling of Travis’s gentle hand over his back. Something heavy lifted off his heart, something he didn’t know was weighing on it. “... Thanks,” he whispered. “... That… that means a lot.”

Travis leaned his forehead against Connor’s. “No problem, Con-con.”

They lingered for a moment. Finally, Connor whispered “... I don’t think you’d ever hurt anyone. I don’t think you’d accidentally kill yourself. I think you’re gonna be okay. Or… I need you to be okay. You’re my big brother. I need you.”

Travis smiled slightly. “... Thank you,” he whispered. “... I think I… I think I needed to hear that. Your opinion means a lot to me, you know.”

Connor blushed. “... Thanks.”

Travis took a breath. “... Before I stop holding you, do you have anything else to get off your chest?”

“No. I just… I felt… I kind of resented you for a while. Because I felt like… I felt like you were just so much better than me. That was… that was one of the reasons why I became so hard towards you. I resented you, but I felt so bad for it, because you’ve never been anything but kind and tender to me, and really, I love you so much, but there was that part of me that just… yeah.” Connor took a deep breath. “I was really bitter towards you.”

Travis squeezed him gently. “... I get it. Well, don’t worry. You’re not inferior to me. There are things you do better than me. You think more before you act. You plan things more intensively than I do. If I come up with a grandiose idea, you find a way to execute it. See, that’s incredible to me. I’m not good with making shit happen. Sure, I came up with the idea of breaking out of the ‘rehab’ home, but you planned the exit, put together the supply lists, and figured out where we’d go after. You were nine, Con-con. _Nine._ And you came up with something I’d never be able to think of on my own.

“See, you’re brilliant. You’ve got a much better mind than I do. Sure, I may be a bit more charismatic, but Connor, you’re _bright._ And that’s beautiful.”

Connor nested his head in the soft curve of Travis’s shoulder. “... Thanks.” He swallowed, blinking back the tears. “You’ve got a warm heart. That’s… that’s beautiful.”

Travis gave him a small squeeze. “Thank you, Connor. I’m glad you decided to unburden yourself to me. I’m so glad I was able to reassure you.” He pulled away, smiling softly at Connor. “Please, let me know if I can help you in any other ways.”

Connor blushed. He pinched Travis’s arm. “Sap.”

“Oh, shut up,” Travis laughed. “You were the one going on about how much you loved me and needed me and all that jazz. Anyway, where’s my vape?”

“In your pocket,” Connor sighed. 

Travis patted his thighs. He found his vape and pulled it from his pocket. “Thanks, man. You want a hit?”

“Right, because drugs are so much better when done with friends.” Connor rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t want any hits off your vape. And no, I don’t care about the fact that it tastes like pineapple or mango or anything like that.”

Travis shrugged. “All right, bud. More for me, I guess.”

Connor sighed. “Whatever makes you not try and drag me into your addiction, man.”

There was a tap on the door. Connor turned. It was Chris. Chris opened the door to the balcony and pushed his head out. “Hey, guys. I’ve gotta go.”

“Already?” Travis asked, turning around.

“Yeah, man. Clarisse doesn’t like it when she and I are apart unnecessarily. She thinks I’m in danger if I’m not in her sights, and she doesn’t want to come here.”

Travis gave him a small smirk. “Because she thinks we’re annoying?”

“At best,” Chris laughed. “Anyway, I’ll see you two later?”

“Yeah,” Travis cut in. 

Chris held out his arms and he and Travis embraced, gently patting each other’s backs. It was a couple of moments before they separated. “Love ya, man,” Travis said after they parted.

“Love you too,” Chris laughed.

Connor held out his arms. “Hey, do I get a hug, too?”

Chris raised his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah of course.” Chris moved in and gave him a quick squeeze. “Sorry, man, I didn’t really think you wanted one. I thought you were mad at me.”

Connor grinned at him as they separated. “Nah, man, I was never mad at you. Don’t worry about it.”

Chris smiled. “Thank you. That’s very reassuring.” He turned to leave. “Bye, guys.”

“Bye, Chris.”

And with that, he left, leaving them alone on the balcony with Travis suckling on his vape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donna Stoll had issues with Connor because she couldn't get at Hermes. Travis may have been a reminder of the man who knocked her up and ditched her, but Connor just felt like a mockery.
> 
> Also, Donna got arrested when the Stolls were eight and ten years old respectively. They wound up going to live with their grandmother along with their younger (mortal) half-sister, but had to be placed in a rehabilitation center for chronic kleptomaniacs after they stole and pawned several pieces of near-priceless costume jewelry. They wound up breaking out and spent some time wandering around out West before they made their way to camp.
> 
> Now that I write it out, that's a really fucking edgy backstory. Holy crap. I swear, one day I'll stop being such an edgelord.


	137. One-sided Reypollo, implied Apollo/Hermes-The One Who Got Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo finally has some time to think after his trials. In typical fashion, he spends it pining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request fill for verygoodstuff, who wanted something involving Reypollo. Well, this is just 1K-2K words of Apollo pining for her. Also, Hermes and Artemis wrote themselves into this and I'm not sorry.
> 
> Warnings for stalking, implied incest, Hermes bashes Reyna for breaking Apollo's heart. Really, Apollo is his own warning when it comes to romance. Hermes is too. Tyrant's Tomb spoilers.

Apollo never had quite gotten over Reyna.

Despite her cruelty when he had confessed for the first time, he couldn’t quite forget her. He would sit on the edge of Olympus, gaze down at Artemis’s Huntresses-- _ Fates, _ seeing her wearing that silver jacket hurt--and nurse the sting in his breast. It was a near-daily ritual for him. He would put the sun chariot away in the evening and just go sit. There would be nights he would be there until it was time for him to raise the sun.

It had started shortly after his godliness had been restored. He hadn’t thought about it much when he had been mortal--he was too busy just trying to survive. But when he’d had the time to think about things, her rejection of him had begun to sting so much more. It hadn’t even been the fact that she hadn’t wanted him. He’d been rejected before. Sure, he’d taken his time to weep and moan and angst over it, but he’d always recovered by the next person he could bed. But this?

This was different.

He didn’t know why. Perhaps it was the brutality of her rejection. She had laughed directly in his face, after all. And he’d never been the best at moving on under the best of circumstances. Still, he wished he could stop. He wished he could just get up and walk away. He wished he could forget about her. He wished to forget her existence entirely. He wished for a day when he’d hear of her demise and feel nothing. Every time he looked down and saw her sitting with Artemis’s group, laughing and smiling, it reminded him that he would never make her happy in that way. And that…

… that  _ hurt.  _

It had been a solid month of his little ritual when Artemis confronted him on his little perch on Olympus’s rocky side. “Brother.”

Apollo swallowed. “... Sister.”

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re spying on her.” Artemis sat at his right. “Look, she knows she’s being spied on. I’ve told her everything. And in return…” Her silvery eyes gleamed in the moonlight, “... she told me everything, as well.”

“She laughed in my face,” Apollo choked bitterly, feeling tears sting at his eyes. “I mean, who does that? That’s so mean!”

Artemis gave a small smile. “That was amusing. Anyway, if she was cruel to you, then why do you still pine for her so heavily? Are you just that void of judgement?”

A tear tracked down Apollo’s cheek. “I don’t know! And that’s what angers me! I want her, I can’t have her, and she hates me!” He drew in a shuddery breath. 

“She’s the one who got away. It happens,” Artemis dismissed. She brushed the tear off of Apollo’s cheek with one finger. “Don’t weep. Distract yourself with other things. You can’t get everyone you want.”

Apollo nodded. He hugged himself, closing his eyes, not able to bear seeing Reyna anymore, smiling and happy without him. He gave Artemis a small nod.  _ Go away, please go away… _

Artemis did not go away. She put a hand on his shoulder. “When was the last time you had a peaceful sleep?”

Apollo swallowed. He blinked. “... I… I don’t remember.”

“That’s what I thought,” Artemis murmured gently. She touched his cheek, right under his eyes. “Your eyes look bruised, brother. Your dark circles are growing dark circles. It’s not a good look for you. I can’t remember the last time you looked this bad.” She took a breath. “Apollo, your little stalking habit isn’t good for  _ you,  _ much less Reyna. I know it hurts, but you must let her go. For both of your respective goods.”

“... But she’s beautiful… and strong… and wonderful… and I just want to be the one to make her happy…” Apollo’s voice broke. Tears spilled over his cheeks. “How am I supposed to let go of someone like that?”

“A noble thought. But she is quite happy as she is. I have insured that. Do not worry for her. And I do not quite know how exactly to forget about her other than to distract yourself. Perhaps take another woman, or a man. Your most consuming flings are always of the homosexual variety, and I think a consuming fling may be to your benefit,” Artemis reasoned. “It would be a pleasant distraction.”

“... It aches.” Apollo’s voice was tiny. “It hurts so very much.”

Artemis put a hand on his shoulder. “Hug?”

Apollo melted easily into her arms. “... I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… to be a creepy stalker. I just… I just couldn’t pull myself away. And… it hurts… it hurts so bad… I just want to  _ forget,  _ Art! I don’t want to ever think about her again! But… but she’s so  _ beautiful  _ and I… I…” He gasped, shuddering with sobs. “... I can’t stop thinking about her… it hurts…”

Artemis pulled him into her lap, rubbing his side, cradling him. “I know it hurts. And I’m sorry. But she made her choice. And I know it’s hard to forget, but you must. Why don’t you go to Hermes? He always helps ease your pain. And Fates know, his life is enough to distract anybody.”

“He is asleep,” Apollo whimpered morosely. “I do not wish to interrupt his rest.”

“But you need rest as well,” Artemis murmured. “And I do not trust you to sleep on your own. I highly suspect that if left alone, you will take up the whole night weeping, and then when tomorrow rolls around, you will only look worse. As your twin, I cannot bear to see you destroy yourself. And I believe Hermes holds the key to keeping you together. So yes, I believe interrupting his sleep would be worth it .” She gave him a squeeze, rubbing his body in a comforting manner. “Shall we go now?”

Apollo couldn’t think to do anything but give a listless nod.

Artemis gently pulled him up, leading him gently up the side of Olympus. They walked hand-in-hand, holding tightly. There was no conversation made. Artemis knew it wasn’t her fault. She did not control who sought her blessing. She never forced the decision on anyone. But seeing Apollo weeping over something one of her Huntresses had done… it did make a bit of pity stir in her chest. That was strange. She never pitied the man when a heterosexual relationship dissolved.

But Apollo was her brother. He came before any ideal she’d ever taken. They’d shared a womb, a cradle. When one of them cried, the other wiped their tears. When one of them was hurt, the other tended their wounds. It was just how it was. She loved him.

She made a mental note to give Reyna a talking-to about being gentle on Apollo’s heart later.

They walked up the steps of Hermes’s temple. Artemis let herself in easily. They moved to Hermes’s quarters, pushing into his bedroom. He lay on top of the sheets, shirtless in the summer heat. His sandals lay beside his bed. His cap lay on his nightstand. Artemis could see George and Martha moving sluggishly in their vivarium in the corner. In any other circumstance, she would have wanted to play with the snakes, but not now. Never when Apollo was around. 

She shook Hermes gently. “Brother, wake up.”

Hermes grunted, rolling onto his back. “Ugh. Hot. Tired.”

“It’s summer. We dealt with these temperatures all the time in ancient times,” Artemis sighed.

“... When the clothes didn’t bake you inside them,” he grumbled. He sat up. “... Anyway, what’s your problem?”

“Apollo’s having troubles,” Artemis announced. “He could use a distraction, or at bare minimum, a cuddle partner.”

Hermes looked up at Apollo. His eyes were red, with prominent dark circles under them. He looked haunted, almost. “What troubles you, brother? Is it your trials again?”

Apollo perched on the edge of Hermes’s bed. “No, it’s a…” He swallowed. “It’s a girl.”

Hermes put an arm around him. Apollo leaned in. Hermes smelled of sweat and campfire and dried leaves, something wild and sweet. “A girl, huh?” he cooed. “What happened?”

“She laughed in my face,” Apollo managed. “And then… and then she ran off to join the Huntresses.”

Hermes gave a small huff of laughter. “Oh, dear brother. That must sting.” He sleepily lay back down. “Here, lie with me.”

Apollo curled up in a small ball next to Hermes on the edge of the bed, facing Artemis. He ached for sleep, but his mind wouldn’t stop circling around, yelling  _ ReynaReynaReyna.  _ “... It does.”

Hermes reached out, rubbing Apollo’s back. “Worry not. There are other girls out there. She is not the determiner of your worth. Don’t get sad because of her. She’s probably not good enough for you, anyway.”

“... Some would say she’s better,” Apollo murmured, pressing his face into the pillow.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Hermes reassured. “You’re the god here. Not her. The Fates chose you for godhood, not her. She can’t be better than you.” He rolled over, taking Apollo in his arms, despite the heat. He pressed a kiss into the base of Apollo’s neck. “How about this. First thing tomorrow, we’ll go down and find a mortal to tag-team. Perhaps some sexual satisfaction will ease your pain. You can pick the girl. Or hell, it doesn’t even have to be a girl. It can be anyone you want.”

Apollo’s thoughts drifted to lascivious places. “... That sounds nice. I’d… I’d like that.”

Artemis gave a sharp huff. “I don’t wish to hear any more of this lewdness. I must be off.” She put a kiss on Apollo’s cheek. “Feel better, my little twin.”

Apollo managed a small smile. “I will do my best, my littler twin.”

Artemis tweaked his nose before disappearing.

“... Ow,” Apollo grumbled.

Hermes gave him a small squeeze, reassuring and soft. He gently rubbed his foot against Apollo’s calf. Apollo’s skin burned with heat. Hermes’s skin quickly became slick with sweat where it came into contact with him. It dampened Apollo’s shirt, but he didn’t seem to care. 

Hermes heard Apollo sniffle slightly. He propped himself up on his elbow. Glowing drops of golden light ran over the bridge of Apollo’s nose. His soft pink lip was trembling. “Why do you weep? Do you really long for her that terribly?”

Apollo only nodded. 

Hermes pressed a kiss to Apollo’s shoulder. “Oh, my brother. What can I do to ease your mind? Anything? Please, tell me. It hurts to watch you weep.”

Apollo turned over, facing Hermes. He pulled his knees to his chest, looking up at Hermes with wide blue eyes. “... Tell me a story?”

Hermes smiled. “I don’t know if I have any good ones I haven’t told you yet. Do you have any requests?”

Apollo thought. “... How did you get implicated in the Kennedy assassination again?”

Hermes laughed awkwardly. “That’s a… that’s a long one. I can tell you, but you’d have to make sure Zeus doesn’t find out. That guy was one of his favorite descendants.”

Apollo leaned his forehead against Hermes’s chest. “I will do my best, brother, but you know as well as I do that my lips tell no lies.”

Hermes swallowed. “It’s all right, I suppose. It is likely Zeus will never even bring it up.” He lay down, gently embracing Apollo, stroking his loose golden curls. “Anyway, it started nearly sixty-five years ago to this day.”

Apollo took a breath and relaxed into Hermes’s voice, his embrace. The screaming in his mind quieted, and slowly, he fell into a deep sleep, his first in a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest, Apollo/Hermes has become a slight guilty pleasure of mine. I don't know what else to say on it. It just kind of is. Soft content of them is addictive.
> 
> Also, the story of how Hermes got implicated in the Kennedy assassination is going to become a Noodle Incident.


	138. Early-stage Tratie-The Canoe Lake Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travis has an idea. It turns out to be stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mild violence, mentions of eating disorders.

“Is that Katie?”

Connor heaved a loud sigh, looking over at Travis. He was gazing over at a lithe female figure standing on the dock over the lake. They were hiding behind a tree on the lakeshore. “Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but I think so. I know she showed up here a little while ago, something with Miranda, but I don’t know what. It is Katie, though.”

Travis took a deep breath. “Ooooh. Yeah. Look at her, standing there, all peaceful… her hair blowing all over the place… and she’s just thinkin’ about stuff… what do you think she’s thinking about?”

“I dunno,” Connor shrugged. 

“... I’m gonna push her into the canoe lake,” Travis sighed. 

“What, you wanna see her wet?”

Travis licked his lips. “Why not? She looks good all wet.”

“I… bet… she… does,” Connor snickered.

“Also, she’s gotta think  _ some  _ prank of mine is funny, right? I mean, she seemed to think the shirtless selfie I sent her was all right.”

Connor nodded.  _ If by ‘all right,’ you mean ‘she threatened to call the cops’ then yes. _ “More or less.” 

“So we’re getting closer. I bet this time will be the time she laughs.”

“... Riiiiight,” Connor sighed. “This time will be the time she takes you from me.”

“Look, man, just because I find romantic love doesn’t mean I don’t love  _ you  _ anymore. You’ll always be my baby brother.” Travis ruffled Connor’s hair with an affectionate hand. “I’m off now. Gonna go seek my Aphrodite by the lakeshore.”

Connor sighed. “... Right.”

He watched as Travis tiptoed up behind Katie. He put two hands on either of her shoulder blades and shoved. Her arms flailed as she tipped over, her legs scraping roughly against the wooden dock. She tumbled hard. She cracked her face audibly against a nearby dock post. He heard her shriek as she splashed into the water.

She didn’t surface for a while.

Connor ran over. “Hades, dude, you  _ really  _ fucked that up.”

Travis was standing with his hands over his mouth. Raw horror filled his eyes. He leaned out. “... Katie?” He held out his hand. “Katie? Please, surface.”

Katie’s head broke water. Small drops of blood fell into the water below her. He heard her crying quietly. 

“Katie, I’m really sorry, I…”

She lunged up onto the dock and hit him as hard as she could. 

Travis reeled as her fist connected with his eye. “Ow! Dude! I didn’t  _ mean  _ it!”

Blood was running from Katie’s nose. Her shins were skinned and leaking blood. Tears were welling fresh in her leaf-green eyes. She was hiccuping. 

They stared at each other for a while.

“... I’m going to the infirmary,” Katie whimpered finally. She wiped the blood off her face. “Goodbye.”

“... I’m so sorry, Katie,” Travis said, almost crying to her retreating back. 

She ran across the camp green and disappeared. 

Connor patted his back. “... It doesn’t look too bad,” he tried. “Will will make sure she’s all fixed up.”

“... I didn’t mean to hurt her,” Travis murmured. “I really didn’t. I just meant for her to take a funny little tumble and be fine.” 

“I know,” Connor shrugged. “You’re not malicious. Just fuckin’ stupid.”

Travis sniffled. “I… I know, but I just… I don’t want to… I mean, I love her. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Think it’s a little too late for that, bro,” Connor chided. “Anyway, she’ll be fine. You wanna go spar or something?”

Travis took a deep breath. “No, man, I don’t want to spar now. I’m gonna go apologize. I think… I think I’ve really gone too far this time.” He started walking in Katie’s direction. 

Connor huffed out his nose. “Fine, man. You go kowtow to a girl who hates you. I’m gonna go have a sad wank because my brother doesn’t fucking care for me anymore.”

Travis nodded. “Don’t get anything gross on the walls.”

Connor didn’t respond. He stormed off in the opposite direction. 

Travis shook his head, walking for the Big House.  _ How did this kid make it while I was in college? Oh, wait, he didn’t. That’s why I’m taking a year to prepare him for college. So we can go together in a year. Anyway, apologizing to Katie is still a priority. Connor’s issues can come later. He’s fine. She might have a broken nose.  _

_ Gods, I really fucked up. Poor girl.  _

He crept through the hallways of the Big House until he reached the infirmary. Peeking through the door of the infirmary, his eyes fell on Katie’s figure, sitting on the edge of one of the beds. Will was across the room from her, setting Paolo Montes’s broken leg. Travis couldn’t see much of Paolo save for one of his hands, clenched so tightly on the bedrail his knuckles were a pale yellow. Travis gave a sympathetic wince.

Katie was wrapped in a towel. Her shoulders were hunched. She was holding something to her face. Travis assumed it was a tissue. She held a cup in her other hand. Her hair covered her face. Travis could see that there were some Band-Aids speckling her legs. In the quiet infirmary, her heavy breathing was audible even from the doorway. 

Travis tiptoed in. “... Katie?”

Katie looked up. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her face contorted into wet anger, tears welling in her bright green eyes. Her lip was scraped. “Why? Why is it always me? Why never anyone else? Why don’t I get any of your respect? Why do you hate me so much?” A sob choked out of her throat. “Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

Travis stared at his shoes. “... I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought it would be… I thought it would be funny. I didn’t think you’d hurt yourself. I thought… I thought maybe you’d like a swim. It was a hot day… and you were just standing there…”

“I was thinking. I didn’t want a swim, Travis. Maybe it would be funny if I hadn’t hurt myself, I don’t know.” Katie pulled the tissue away from her nose. It was slightly spotted with blood. 

Travis perched on the edge of a nearby chair. “... What were you thinking about?”

Katie’s lip trembled. “I’m not telling you. It involves someone who doesn’t deserve to be involved with you or your bullshit.”

Travis gave a small nod. “... Okay, then. I won’t ask. I just… I wanted to come and say I’m sorry. And… by the way, I don’t hate you. I actually…” He cleared his throat and blushed. “I actually like you a lot.”

“You’re full of it,” Katie snorted, toweling off her hair a little bit and taking a sip of her nectar. “You wouldn’t torment someone you liked.”

Travis scuffed his feet. “But I… I thought it would make you laugh. The bunnies, the lake, everything. I just wanted to make you laugh.” He took a deep breath. “I guess I’ve been doing it wrong.”

Katie was silent. She was silent for a long time. Finally, she whispered “Yeah. You have.”

“... I’m so sorry,” Travis murmured. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Katie wiped her eyes on her towel. “... So what, you bullied me for years because you had a crush on me?”

“... I didn’t know it felt like bullying to you,” Travis mumbled. “I’m sorry. I guess… I guess sometimes I don’t quite realize how my jokes come off.”

“Well, it did,” Katie sighed. “I mean, at best, you were annoying. At worst, you were abusive. I mean, why do you think Annabeth doesn’t like you?”

Travis hung his head. “... Because I put a tarantula in her bunk bed?”

“Because you put a tarantula in her bunk bed,” Katie affirmed. “I mean, look, some chocolate bunnies on a roof, fine. By the time you’re playing into people’s personal phobias, that’s low. That’s just low.”

“... I liked her, too,” Travis admitted. “I… I guess I didn’t realize how bad her fear actually was. Chiron… he actually got really mad at me for it. Apparently I made her cry.”

“You’re an idiot, Travis,” Katie sighed. “You’re either a total moron or you’re intentionally malicious. And from what I’m hearing now, you’re not malicious. So I’m going with moron.”

“... I don’t intend to hurt. I just want to sow some good old-fashioned chaos.” Travis shifted, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. “I mean, my pranks aren’t designed to leave scars. They’re meant to annoy.”

“Well, you succeeded on that front,” Katie huffed. “And I think Annabeth is okay. That happened a while ago. I think she’s a lot stronger and more mature now. She’s also been through worse. I don’t think what you did left any lasting scars. But it was still pretty low.”

“I know,” Travis sighed. “I apologized. I felt like real shit for it. She… kind of forgave me? But after that, I kind of stopped talking to her. I just felt bad. And… I don’t want that. I don’t want to lose another crush.” He shifted. “... It would hurt a lot.”

Katie looked up at Travis. “I can’t believe you, Travis.”

He shifted. “If you hate me, it’s okay. I won’t be mad.”

Katie pursed her lips. “... Travis, I don’t hate you. I found you deeply annoying, irritating, dumb. But… I never quite hated you. Even when you sent me that fucking weird stalker selfie of you on the construction crane, I couldn’t hate you.” She heaved a deep sigh. “I suppose it’s my own fault for having an Instagram account that’s open for everyone to find.”

“... You’re a really good flower… creator, by the way,” Travis tried. “The things you made were… were real pretty.”

Katie snorted. “Thanks, I guess. I’m planning to start a business someday. Miranda and I. And it’s  _ florist,  _ by the way, not  _ flower creator. _ ”

Travis gave a sheepish chuckle. “... I’m sorry. I’m dumb. I know.”

Katie sighed. She blew her nose into the tissue. “What else is new?”

“... Is your nose still bleeding?” Travis inquired.

Katie checked the tissue. Bloody mucus was smeared across the white surface. “... Little bit. Will says it’ll heal just fine. It’s not broken or anything, just hurt a lot.”

“... I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Oh, I know you didn’t  _ mean  _ to,” Katie sighed. “I’m just saying you’re foolish.”

“I know. I know I’m dumb. I’ve admitted I’m dumb,” Travis sighed. “Is there any way I can make it up to you? If you want me to leave, I can. If you want me to never look at you again, I can do that too. You won’t hurt me. It’s okay.”

Katie met Travis’s eyes, looking at him imploringly. “I have one ultimatum.”

Travis met her gaze, honey-gold meeting leaf green. “Of course.”

“Don’t prank me anymore.”

Travis nodded. “Will do. There are other victims out there. I can guarantee you, you will not be victimized by the Hermes cabin ever again.”

Katie sniffled. She hugged herself. “... Thanks.”

“... Do you want me to go?”

Katie looked down. She was quiet for a long time. “... So you had a crush on me?”

Travis sighed. “... Yeah. A big one. For years. Since I first met you.”

“Travis, we would have been… what? Eleven?”

“Eleven, yeah,” Travis nodded. “It was… I mean, I was… I’m so deep in love, and for a long, long time, I really didn’t know how to handle it. I still don’t. I’m sorry.”

Katie hugged herself. “Love is a strong word, Travis. Look, if I get your dick hard, that’s one thing, but  _ love?  _ No. You don’t even  _ know _ me, much less  _ love  _ me.”

Travis swallowed. “... Well… I know you like flowers, and growing things, and pretty things. I know you’ve got a naturally soft and nurturing personality. I know you and Miranda have a rocky relationship even though you’re both really nice people. I know you used to skip breakfast and even lunch sometimes to take care of your plants--you okay?”

Katie had visibly flinched. She pulled her knees to her chest. “... Yeah. Yeah. And I wasn’t ‘skipping meals,’ I was just too busy to eat. I’m not disordered or some shit, I’m just dedicated.”

“I wasn’t trying to imply that you were disordered,” Travis soothed. “I was trying to attest to your dedication, in fact. Anyway, I know you’re soft, kind, and dedicated. How am I not supposed to fall for someone like that?”

Katie blushed hard. “... I don’t know, Travis. You… you’re being more complimentary than… than you’ve ever been before. I don’t know how to respond to it.”

Travis smiled, but it wasn’t his normal smile. It was softer, more honest, more  _ real.  _ “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t know what to say,” he assured. “It’s okay.”

Katie nodded, although the heat in her face didn’t dissipate. “Thanks.”

There was a pause. Finally, Travis shifted. “... So… are we good?”

Katie looked up. “Yeah, we’re good.” She pointed intently at Travis. “For now.”

“So… until I fuck up?”

Katie nodded. “Until you fuck up. Until then, we’re cool, and I’m sorry for punching you earlier.”

Travis laughed. “Nah, you’re cool. I had it coming. I’m glad you’ve forgiven me for accidentally hurting you.”

“No problem,” Katie sighed. “I’m just glad it wasn’t purposeful.”

“No, never. I’m not the type,” Travis said.

They looked at each other for a moment. Katie studied Travis’s face. His eyes drew her in. They were light… brown? Honey-brown? Gold? Katie couldn’t tell. There was a bright mischief lit in the corners, something enticing yet dangerous. Katie couldn’t help but take interest. His face was dusted with freckles, so many freckles she couldn’t begin to count them all. She didn’t want to think about it, but…

… they were  _ cute.  _

Katie shook herself out of it. “Well… here’s to a new era of cooperation and friendship.”

Travis nodded, a smile breaking across his pink lips. “Of course! Yeah, I’d like to be friends with you. Even if I can’t be your boyfriend, being your friend sounds nice.”

Katie sighed. “Well, we’ll see what happens. Maybe if some miracle occurs I’ll fall in love with you.”  _ And your pretty eyes, and your cute freckly cheeks, and your pink lips that look soft, so soft… _

Travis blushed. “Well, I’ll hope for a miracle, then.”

Katie couldn’t help but chuckle. “You do that, Stoll.”

Travis shifted, rubbing his neck, below his soft-looking curls. “Yeah. Anyway, I think I have to go. Connor wanted to go spar.”

Katie snorted. “You go see your brother.”

“Okay. Are you feeling a little better?”

Katie gave a small smile. “I’m doing better, yeah. My nose isn’t bleeding anymore.”

Travis gave her a soft smile. “Sounds great.” He turned towards the door. “See you later?”

Katie couldn’t help but return it. “Yeah. See you later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if Katie ever truly hated Travis. I think she just thought he was annoying.


	139. Percabeth-Glassy Green Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy's been sleeping all day. Annabeth comes in to wake him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very minor self-harm (biting of knuckles). Otherwise, it's not really too warning-heavy.

“Hey, have you seen Percy today?” Sally said offhandedly, looking up from her laptop computer with a sudden worried expression. 

Annabeth blinked. She looked up from her notepad--now that the gods were restored, her job as Olympus’s architect had gotten a lot more intensive--and met Sally’s eyes. “... Come to think of it, I don’t think so.”

Sally’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. Annabeth was struck, suddenly, by the way her facial expressions resembled Percy’s. “Can you check on him, please? I know he’s probably just sleeping, but I just want to make sure.”

Annabeth stretched. “Yeah, sure. I’ll go wake the lazy bugger.” She laughed. 

“Was he up all night or something?” Sally asked, cocking her head. The day before had been Percy’s seventeenth birthday.

“We were up late, yeah.” Annabeth’s mind wandered to the time they’d spent cuddling in front of the television, letting the mindlessness of the programming lull them both into a half-sleep. They’d stumbled back to Percy’s room at almost three in the morning, Percy pulling her gently behind him into his bed, wrapping her up in his arms. Annabeth had decided to call that their first time sharing a bed. 

Sally raised an eyebrow. She studied Annabeth. “... Well… I’m glad you two had fun at least. Just don’t make a habit of staying up too late. You guys need your sleep.”

Annabeth gave an awkward laugh. She stood up, crossing the apartment to reach the little hallway that led to Percy’s door. “I’ll do my best.” 

She quietly opened Percy’s bedroom door. The room was dim. Percy’s figure was only barely visible, wrapped up tightly in the blankets. “Percy?”

No response. Annabeth moved closer. She listened for his normal sleep noises, those little murmurs of half-sentences. 

He was completely silent.

“Percy, don’t do this. I know you’re awake. Get up and join the world. It’s almost one in the afternoon.” Annabeth sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to Percy. She shook his shoulder lightly.

His breath hitched slightly. “... Go away.”

Something in Annabeth’s chest stung, even though she knew that he didn’t mean it in a ‘get out of my life’ way. “Why should I go? You’re not doing anything but lying here.” She forced a light and teasing tone, despite her worry. He’d sounded pretty breathless. “Unless you’re doing something… _naughty.”_

Percy shook his head. “Guys don’t lie on their sides when they do that, Annabeth.”

“Okay, okay! I was just joking!” Annabeth held up her hands. She sighed, her voice becoming much more serious. “I’m concerned, that’s all. No one’s seen you all day, and you seemed kind of… I don’t know. You’ve seemed a little sluggish ever since the battle. I just want… I don’t want you to…” She cleared her throat, swinging her legs up to rest beside him. “Ugh. I’m having a hard time explaining it. I just want to know, are you feeling okay?”

Percy was quiet for a very long time. Finally, he tilted his head in a tiny shake.

“Okay,” Annabeth worried. “See, this is what I was concerned about.” She gently pressed her palm against his neck. It was slightly cool to the touch. “Well, you’re not feverish. That’s good. Are you nauseous? Does your head hurt? Oh, gods, don’t tell me you ran out and got yourself injured. I’ll fucking kill you.”

Percy just shook his head, so listlessly it made Annabeth’s heart ache. 

Annabeth was once again torn between wanting to hit him until he bruised and wanting to press kisses over his every inch. She took a deep breath, trying to come back to sanity and reality. “So… no to all of those?”

Percy shrugged. “... I’m tired,” he mumbled. “... Let me sleep.”

Annabeth sat in silence with him for a moment. She realized, almost a moment too late, that his breathing sounded near-frantic, rapid and breaking. “... Are you short of breath? If you’re short of breath, then you should be taking deep, slow breaths, not rapid, frantic ones. That’ll only make it worse.”

Percy moved slightly, shifting so his hand was near his face. Annabeth couldn’t quite tell what he was doing. She looked closer. His fist was curled up next to his lips. He was biting down hard on his knuckles. His Adam's apple was trembling. His jaw was tense.

Annabeth put a hand on his shoulder. The tension trapped in the muscles was phenomenal. She didn’t have a remedy for this distress that he was experiencing when he wouldn’t even tell her what it was. Annabeth had always loved harshly. It was what she’d had to do in order to survive with her soul intact. She was all biting and bruising and yelling, all teeth and nails on skin, a tongue sharper than the weapons she preferred. Percy was the soft one in the relationship. He was the one with the tender words, the soft ideas, the _let’s stay together forever,_ the _come to bed with me,_ the _hey, it’s okay, we’re together, we’re alive._ He was soft arms around her while she cried, gentle hands patting her back, light fingers brushing the tears off of her cheeks, a comfortable shoulder to nestle into. Annabeth didn’t know how to replicate that, that all-consuming comfort that Percy could provide without even knowing what was wrong. Every time she tried to soothe Percy on any front, it felt like she was fumbling in the dark. She’d do anything to comfort him, but she didn’t know how.

She lightly rubbed his shoulder, over his back. Her hand trailed to the small of his back, gently pressing her fingers into the flesh. She couldn’t help but notice that he relaxed slightly beneath her touch. “... Remember back in Manhattan, when I took that knife for you?”

Percy nodded. 

“... I did that to protect you. Because I couldn’t bear to see you dying. I couldn’t bear to lose you.” She took a deep breath. “And I’d do it again, you know that? Because I care about you, and I want to keep you safe. I want to… I want to help you out. I just want… I want to… you don’t look so good, you’re looking… you’re looking sick or sad or something, and I… I just want to help, okay? I know I’m not good with words, but I do want to make you feel better.”

Percy leaned his head back slightly, letting it rest against her thigh. He pulled his fist from his mouth. Annabeth saw purple bitemarks blooming over his knuckles. He sniffled thickly. It was a while before he spoke. “... Thank you.”

Annabeth gently pet his hair, not quite knowing what else to do. “... You’re welcome,” she murmured. She stared at the plain blue quilt that wrapped Percy. She realized, suddenly, perhaps a little too late, that Percy had to be in tears. There was no other option. The hitching breath, the lack of any physical illness, the telling her to go away, the biting of the knuckles, what Annabeth could only assume was a last, desperate attempt to hold back a floodgate that she didn’t even know was there. 

A cold feeling of shock washed over her. She’d never seen Percy cry. She’d seen him close, but he’d never crossed that edge. His eyes had filled, but no tears had fallen. He’d always been… not the _strong_ one, but the _happy_ one. She’d known he’d known pain, but he’d always seemed so cheerful. He’d always had jokes. He’d always kept her spirits up, even when they were literally in hell, he was always her teasing, joking, smiling, snarky Seaweed Brain. It had come to feel like when Percy lost hope, everyone lost hope. Seeing him like this felt so _alien,_ so _wrong,_ that Annabeth wanted to cry in her own right.

She looked at him. Slight shivers were wracking him. His face was buried in his pillow. His blanket was twisted tightly around his body, minimizing his normally mighty frame. The freezing shock gave way to an aching sadness. She needed to bring him some relief. 

She lay down on top of the sheets, slinging an arm over his waist and a leg over his thigh, pressing a soft kiss into the back of his neck before nuzzling in. She took a deep breath, his smell of sea filling her nose, sweet and fresh and gentle. “... I love you,” she finally whispered. “I don’t think I say that enough.”

When she put a hand over his chest, she could feel it heaving.

She slipped beneath the sheets, slotting herself against his body. He was warm, and his skin was soft to the touch. She blushed slightly, realizing that she’d never even seen him shirtless, much less touched his bare chest. She could feel the lumps of scars over his skin, some bigger than others. Almost all were irregularly shaped. Burns. 

She pushed her other arm beneath his body, clinging to him tightly, holding him like a teddy bear. He was heavy, and she knew that her arm would go numb pretty quickly, but she didn’t care. If he was distressed, she needed to comfort him. Simple as that. 

He relaxed slightly as she held him. She listened to his breath, quivery and shaky but so, so quiet, as if he still needed to stifle himself after all this time by her side. His restraint made her heart ache. It felt like mistrust, somehow, and it broke her heart that Percy would rather put his life in her hands than his emotions. He trusted her more than anything, and yet he’d rather hide his face when he wept and keep his most intimate emotions under wraps rather than show her the most tender parts of his soul. 

She pressed kisses over his shoulders, over his neck, the skin warm and soft under her lips. “... I love you so, so much.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. “You’re everything to me. You’re my best friend. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t know what’s hurting you now, but I love you a lot, and if you want to talk about it, then I’m here, and if you can’t, then I’m still here. If you just want to lie here and cry--and yes, I do know you were crying--then I’ll lie here with you. It’s okay. I’ll make sure nothing will hurt you.” She took a breath, taking the time to press another kiss against his shoulder, nuzzling the soft hair at the nape of his neck. His hair was long, now, much longer than it had been. She gave a slight smirk of satisfaction at the fact that the Romans hadn’t forced their haircut on him. Percy wouldn’t look good at all with a buzz cut. His shaggy locks were just one more mark of his wild Greek spirit. Annabeth loved it more than anything.

“... I’ll always be here with you,” she continued. “No matter what. Even if you’re weak or sick or abused or in pain. You can’t get rid of me.” She pressed more kisses over his skin, his neck, his shoulders. “You’re _my_ boyfriend. _My_ Percy. _My_ Seaweed Brain. I won’t leave you over something as simple as a few tears on your cheek. You’re too precious to me. I love you too much.”

He found her hand from where it lay on his chest and gave it a hard squeeze. When he spoke next, it was in a shaky whisper. “... Love you.” He choked, very slightly, on the words and a stream of shaky sobs broke from his lips, barely there, still, but more audible now. 

She squeezed back. “... I love you too.”

There was a long silence. Percy cried softly, still, his sobs hadn’t waned. Annabeth could feel the pain radiating from him, the tension, the exhaustion. She wanted to wipe the tears from his cheeks, dry his eyes, make it go away. All the tears and pain. She couldn’t stop kissing him. Every pause between kisses felt like a half-second of failure, of abandonment, of not doing all she could to make him better. She had to do all she could for him.

She had to.

“... Can we sit up?” Annabeth asked, softly. “I think I can help more if I can see you a little bit better.”

Percy tensed. “... Um.”

Annabeth softly traced her thumb over his knuckles. “It’s okay. I don’t care if you’re ugly when you cry, or if you’re ashamed of your tears. If you sit up, I can help you. I can make it go away. Or I think I can, anyway.” She pressed another kiss into his neck. “I love you. I want to help you. I’m not going to hurt you in any way, emotional, physical, whatever. Please, Percy, you have to trust me. _I. Will. Not. Hurt. You.”_

Percy relaxed. He was shaking all over, suddenly, like a leaf in the wind. “... I… I trust you,” he murmured. “I trust you with my life.”

“But do you trust me with your heart?”

Percy seemed to think about it. Finally, he disentangled himself from Annabeth’s embrace and sat up, hanging his head. 

Annabeth followed his lead. She moved in front of him, putting a hand on his waist. His skin was warm. “Thank you, Seaweed Brain. You’re doing well,” she praised. 

Percy nodded.

Annabeth pulled a tissue from the box on the nightstand, gently patting it over his cheeks. To her delight, he took her hand and guided it to his teary eyes. She felt the Kleenex become wet under her fingers. She’d known he was crying, sure, but it only hurt more now that she was looking at it, feeling it, ugly and wet as an open wound. 

She took him in a hug. “... I love you,” she whispered. “Oh, gods, I’m so, so sorry.”

Percy only nodded, leaning his head into her shoulder. “... Love you too.”

They rocked each other back and forth for a moment before Percy let go. Annabeth immediately took his face in her hands, brushing his hair off of his sticky cheeks. His expression made her heart feel like it was being stepped on. His eyes were crimson, that beautiful sea-green was so vivid against it, but Annabeth couldn’t enjoy the color like she normally would. Percy was hurting, and that took precedence above all of his beauty. His cheeks were red and stained with salt. His nose was running. He was sniffling still. His lips were wet. His eyes were full of vivid, screaming pain. 

Annabeth bit back a coo of _oh, poor thing_ and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. She pulled him against her chest, nuzzling his head into her breast, stroking his hair. “... Will you talk about it? _Can_ you talk about it?”

Percy leaned down easily, taking the comfort needily. “... It’s everything, Annabeth.”

Annabeth gently ran her hands over him, his back, his neck, his hair. “I get it. I bet it feels like you’re cracking up, doesn’t it?”

Percy nodded.

Annabeth gently rubbed her fingers on the small of his spine. “I understand. I feel that way sometimes, too. It’s okay to cry for yourself sometimes if you need. There’s no shame in it.”

Percy sighed. He moved his head to her shoulder, taking in her smell of lemons, something so familiar and soothing it almost made him want to cry again. “... You’re too kind,” he mumbled. “I love you so much, okay? I’ll do anything for you. I mean that. Really.”

Annabeth kissed his shoulder. “I know you would, Seaweed Brain. I hope you know that I would do the same.”

Percy nodded. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, sitting up. “... Thank you,” he sighed. “For everything. I mean that. Thank you for not forcing…” his voice broke, “... for not forcing me to talk about it.”

Annabeth put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I understand how it feels.”

Percy focused on her collarbones. He couldn’t look at her face right now. It was just too painful to focus on her face, see all the undeserved kindness painted in the expression. “... Thanks,” he whispered. 

Annabeth seemed to sense his reluctance to meet her eyes. She held his hands, staring at the point where their hands interlocked. “... You’re welcome.”

“... It just… it all comes crashing down on me sometimes,” Percy whispered. “And… it’s like… sometimes it feels like my entire life has just been blind agony after blind agony, like someone’s shoving a pillow over my face and I can’t… I can’t even _breathe…”_ He swallowed hard. “... I’m sorry.”

She kissed his knuckles. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I understand that. I’ve had some bad nights myself. You’re not in bad company.”

“Were you crying?” 

“... Maybe?” Annabeth shifted, blushing.

“Oh, Annabeth,” he sighed. “I wish you’d let me help.” 

“You were sleeping. I know how rare that can be for you. I wanted to let you rest,” Annabeth sighed. “I wanted to give you the time to catch up on sleep.”

Percy’s cheeks reddened. Annabeth wanted to smother them in kisses. “... Thanks,” he murmured. “You’re too nice.”

Annabeth laughed. “Hardly.” She kissed his fingers, sating herself with what she had. “Anyway, as I was saying, we all have bad nights. I don’t know how to make it go away. You know I would if I could.” She took a deep breath. “... I don’t know how to help you. I really, really wish I did. Please, if you think of any way I can help out, please, let me know.”

Percy squeezed her hands. He looked up, slightly. She looked tired, but there was nothing cranky or malicious in her expression. When she noticed he was looking at her, a small smile curved at her lips. Percy jolted. Her expression was identical to Sally’s.

He took a breath, shaking himself out of it before leaning in and kissing her. His hand came to rest on her cheek, guiding her face. Their noses slotted easily next to each other. He put his other arm at her hip, leading her into his arms. She put her arms around his back, snuggling close to him. A rush of reassuring warmth and safety coursed through his being. His eyes pricked painfully. 

“... I’ve got you,” Annabeth whispered into the kiss. Her fingers moved up to caress his cheek. “My Seaweed Brain.”

Percy let himself lean into the touch for a moment or two before pulling away. She held his cheek in her hand, still, an expression of soft compassion in her eyes. For once, Percy didn’t feel patronized by the incoming sympathy. She wasn’t trying to play hero. She cared for him. She only wanted to help. It was okay if it came from a good place. 

He let his eyes flutter closed. His body suddenly felt much too heavy. He wanted to curl up with his head on her chest and sleep. He didn’t feel like crying anymore, thankfully, but in the wake of the crushing agony came a dull emptiness that he didn’t know how to fill. 

“... You look exhausted,” Annabeth murmured. His eyes were fully closed. Her hand was almost entirely supporting his head. “You should lie down.”

Percy half-opened his eyes. “... I thought you wanted me to get up.”

Annabeth sighed. “I did. But I think it would be better for you just to rest for right now.”

Percy didn’t have it in him to argue with her. He lay down, reburying his face in the pillow.

Annabeth stroked his hair, trying to press comfort into that place of trauma, that source of blinding pain. “... Will you let me stay with you?”

Percy gave a small nod. A light blush dusted his cheeks. She kissed him there, right on that warmth, before sitting up and leaning against the wall. She pulled her cell phone--one of the few possessions she still had post-Argo--from her pocket and clicked it on. The background was a picture of Percy with four different spoons suspended from various parts of his face. That had been something he’d pulled on their second date. She vividly remembered spitting soda at him when he had done that.

She smiled. Those had been good times.

Annabeth pet his hair affectionately, tracing light touches over his forehead, her fingertips barely there against his skin. Percy gave a gentle sigh. She looked over. His soft pink lips were parted in an expression of relief. It warmed Annabeth’s heart.

She let herself zone into a comfortable silence, staring at her phone.

  
  
  


It was a few moments later when Sally came in. 

She tapped quietly on the door before entering. Her eyes fell on them and she smiled. “Couldn’t find it in you to wake him up, could you?”

“He was crying,” Annabeth blurted. “He wasn’t asleep. He was crying.”

Sally’s face turned from gentle cheer to shock and sadness. She moved to sit next to them on the bed, facing Annabeth. “Why? Did he say?”

“He said it just all came crashing down on him,” Annabeth shrugged. “I think he just had a bad morning.”

Sally nodded. “That makes some sense. It’s normal for someone who’s been through what he’d been through to have bad days.” She leaned in, kissing Percy’s cheek. “Is he sleeping now?”

Annabeth stroked Percy’s hair. “Yeah. I told him to rest. He’s sleeping now. I think he’s okay. I’m staying here in case he has a nightmare or something.”

Sally swallowed. “... Yeah. You two have been having them pretty bad.”

Annabeth didn’t know how to respond. “... Yeah,” she finally murmured. “We have been.”

“I’m so sorry, my babies,” Sally cooed, taking Annabeth’s hands. “Look, if you two need help, please, allow me to help you. I know I may not be able to do much. But I can talk to Chiron and… and maybe we can arrange something. Something that’ll help.”

Annabeth stared at the bed. “... Thank you so much, Sally,” she whispered. “I… it means a lot.”

Sally pulled her into a hug. “It’s no problem, my baby. You two are precious to me. I’d do anything for either of you, you hear?”

Annabeth nested her head in Sally’s shoulder, taking in the warmth, the comfort. “... Thank you,” she whispered, sniffling. “... Thank you so much.”

“Of course, dear,” she cooed, reaching out and stroking Percy’s hair. “Thank you so much for… not only helping each other, but accepting my help.”

Annabeth managed a small smile. “It’s no problem, Sally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have something I kind of want to talk about.
> 
> I kind of hate the way that some of this fandom writes Percabeth fanfiction. I feel like a lot of it is just 'oh they're So Traumatized that They Can't Even Function Nor Talk To Each Other and they Break Up because hahaa edge" and it's like... we can write Solangelo hurt/comfort where two traumatized human beings attempt to comfort each other and overcome their issues, why can't we do the same thing with Percabeth? I mean, half of the angst and edge that these kind of fic writers make is stuff that they could easily avoid if they just got over themselves and *spoke* to each other. I don't know. I just really don't like the sort of "angst for angst's sake" shit that some Percabeth fics fall prey to.
> 
> I'm sorry. I know that was probably barely coherent. It's 2:22 AM. I'm tired. I just had to get this off my chest.


	140. Non-shippy-I'll Do Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's right after Manhattan, and Chris has someone in particular that he needs to find. There's an apology he needs to deliver, and although he doesn't know who quite to apologize to, he has a good guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for neglect/abandonment issues, mentions of death/grief, relationships gone sour, a father being banned from seeing his son.

It was right after Manhattan, and Hermes was tired.

He’d been a ball of energy right after the battle. He’d done a thousand things at once. He’d got communications up and running perfectly, he’d figured out how many kids he still had, he’d spoken to Percy about the progress the mortals were making, he’d checked on his temple, he’d attended that stupid meeting that Zeus had called, he’d spent an hour comforting Apollo after Apollo had learned he only had two children left alive and claimed. It had only been a day. 

He was half-asleep sitting on the edge of a fountain when he felt a presence sit down next to him. He opened his eyes, glancing over. He blinked. It was Chris Rodriguez. 

“Listen,” Chris started. “I know there’s a solid chance that you don’t have any clue who I am, but I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

Hermes looked at him confusedly. He rubbed his eyes. Before he could say anything, Chris continued. “I’m your oldest son. Before Luke died, two or three years ago, I was basically his second in command. I betrayed everyone. I tried to end the world. The only reason I’m here now is because… because…” he shuddered, hugging himself, “... because I went crazy down there in the Labyrinth and… and Clarisse from Ares found me and dragged me back to camp. 

“But that’s not my point. I wanted to apologize for trying to end the world. I was… I was resentful, bitter, angry. I spent three years unclaimed. I still don’t…” He swallowed, his voice wavering. “I still don’t know why it took you three years to remember who I was. But I don’t have the energy to be mad about it anymore. It’s not fair to try and end the world just because I have issues.” He wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry for wasting your time, but I didn’t know who else to apologize to.”

Hermes looked over. Chris was staring at the ground. His shoulders were tense. Hermes swallowed. “... No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t immediately connect you with your mother. Your mother banished me from even laying eyes on you. The last time I saw you before you arrived at camp, you were a smallish lump in your mother’s stomach. I had no idea what you would look like, be like. And your last name is so common that there’s probably been a dozen Rodriguezes between all of us over the past ten years. That’s why I didn’t recognize you. 

“I know it’s a bit of a pathetic excuse, but it’s the truth.”

Chris was quiet. “... Was I just… not enough of your kid?”

“No! No, that’s not it at all. I always wanted you to be my kid, actually. You have a fabulous sense of direction, of wanderlust. I just… look, if someone is misclaimed, it raises hell up here on Olympus. Like, threats of smiting and lengthy natural disasters type of hell. It’s better just to avoid claiming until you’re really, really sure.” Hermes took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t control the way things are. I think Mr. Jackson’s ultimatum for us will help the situation, but I’m not sure it would have helped your case. I’m so, so, sorry, my son.”

Chris sniffled. It was then that Hermes realized he was crying. “... I… I don’t know how to feel,” he whimpered. “I… I’ve been so conflicted for so long, I… I’m sorry.”

“That’s understandable,” Hermes sighed. “If I had a father like that, I’d be conflicted too. It’s my fault you turned out the way you did. I’m really sorry.”

“... Well… I’m back on your side now, I guess. Or the side of the gods. Or something. I really don’t know.” He wiped his eyes. “And I’m sorry for defecting. No matter what my problems are, they’re not worth tearing the world apart over.”

Hermes rubbed his eyes. “... I promise, I will be better to you guys. More attentive. This war was my fault and I’m so sorry.”

Chris nodded. “That sounds good. I think a change like that would be helpful.”

Hermes met Chris’s eyes. “And as for you, Chris, I’m really, really sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long to connect you and your mother. I’m sorry I wasn’t more attentive. I really am.”

Chris just looked at him. “The apology’s appreciated. But it’s just a tiny bit too little too late. You seem sincere and I hope to fuck you are, and I’m happy for that, but you can’t change the past. You can’t erase the three years I spent listening to Luke say that me being unclaimed meant I was unloved, forgotten. You can’t erase the feelings that caused.” He shook his head, brushing the tears out of his shining dark eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“... Don’t apologize,” Hermes sighed. “It really was my fault.” He extended his arms. “I know it doesn’t mean much after all this time, but… hug?”

Chris looked at Hermes for a really long time. Finally, he awkwardly leaned in and embraced Hermes, burying his face in his shoulder.

Hermes hugged back, rubbing circles over Chris’s spine. “... I’m so, so sorry,” he murmured. “I should have… I should have been paying more attention. I should have tried so much harder. I’m… I’m really, really sorry, my son.”

Chris’s chest heaved. A quiet sob broke from his lips. “... Three-ee years un-claimed,” he sniffled. “Three-ee ye-ears un-claimed. Un-lo-oved. Being to-old tha-at I was unlo-oved. Unlo-ovable.” He balled his fists tighter in Hermes’s tracksuit sweater. “That… that  _ hurts.” _

Hermes only held him tighter, gently massaging out the kinks, all the tension trapped in Chris’s young muscles. He didn’t know what to say besides a small “you’re not unloved, my son. I care a great deal. And I‘m sorry I was so weak. So unable. I’m so sorry.”

“You do? You care?” Chris whispered.

“I do,” Hermes responded, a quiet murmur. 

Chris pulled away, his eyes wet and full of tears. He still clung to Hermes’s sweater with the intensity of a frightened child. He didn’t say anything, just stared into Hermes’s blue-green eyes.

Hermes leaned in, kissing Chris’s forehead, as tenderly as possible. He lingered there for a while, enjoying the smell of Chris’s sweaty hair, real and alive. “I care for you as much as a god can care for a mortal.”

Chris shook off the shock of being kissed for the first time by his father. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. “Which is…?”

“I was never mortal,” Hermes sighed. “I’m unsure.”

Chris rolled his eyes, brushing away the tears. “Well, it’s good that I’m not completely unloved.”

Hermes smiled down at Chris. “One like you could never be completely unloved.”

Chris couldn’t help but blush. He pulled away, suddenly uncomfortable with the intimate contact, given by one who had been a source of so much anguish. He dried his eyes, taking a deep breath, pushing down his emotions, suppressing and suppressing and suppressing, years of loneliness and abandonment stuffed down into the rotting chasms of his heart and disappeared until a time when he was alone, in the shower or his bed or somewhere else that no one would ever find. “... Thanks, I guess.” He cleared his throat. “... Thank you for… for telling me that you cared for me. I know I was being stupid and snarky, but really, it means a lot. More than you think it does.”

Hermes nodded. He could feel the appreciation and tenderness rolling off of Chris in waves. 

Chris continued. “I’ve gotta go back to Clarisse now. She’s not doing well.”

“What afflicts her?” Hermes asked.

“Oh, a touch of hypothermia from being entombed in a block of ice by a frost giant, a touch of grief and trauma from watching her best friend get horribly murdered. You know, the usual.”

Hermes couldn’t help but laugh. “Your sense of humor is like mine, my son. I’m appreciative.”

Chris blushed. “... Thanks, I guess.” He rose off the fountain. “By the way, have you seen Connor?”

“Infirmary. He’ll live. Some blood loss, general battering and bruising, but nothing that would be fatal. Travis is with him. They are quite comfortable in each other’s arms, I believe. I’m not concerned about them,” Hermes nodded. 

Chris let out a breath. “Thanks. I hadn’t seen him in a few hours, I was getting really concerned.”

“Understandable,” Hermes nodded. “Have a nice day.” 

Chris laughed, almost bitterly. “I’ll do my best.” He moved away. “Thanks for taking the time to speak with me.”

Hermes nodded. “No problem, my dear son. I’m sorry for my lack of action when it came to claiming you.”

Chris shook his head. “... It’s in the past,” he sighed. “I appreciate your warning to try to make it right, but you can’t change the past, not now. Just… do the Hermes kids of the future better than you did me.”

Hermes nodded sagely. His blue-green eyes were soft. “I will, my dear son.”

Chris only sighed softly. He walked down one of many of Olympus’s pale marble paths and disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found a fucking Stollcest fic where Hermes kills Connor and I'm still upset for so many reasons, I mean, who would make Hermes, the "you can't just give up on family" guy, kill his son? And who the fuck would downvote it when I posted the link on r/WhatTheFanfic? 
> 
> I don't even remember why I was reading Stollcest content in the first place. I need a new hobby.


	141. Percabeth, Solangelo- Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico passes out after shadow-travelling Percy, Annabeth and himself back to camp after a brief scouting mission in the woods near camp.  
> Turns out, sleep isn't always kind to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for nightmares, mentions of iron deficiencies.

_ Nico was burning. _

_ His skin was frying off. His lungs were on fire. He was alone, trapped in the dark, with acidic air searing in his chest, slowly burning at his body. He could hear the screeching of harpies, they circled above him like giant vultures. He stumbled forward a few steps, the air burning his eyes. Tears traced over his gaunt cheeks, as acidic and painful as everything else touching his body. His feet slipped and crunched in the sand--was it sand? It felt more like tiny pieces of glass.  _

_ He had to get to the Phlegethon. He could see the river of fire glowing vaguely on the horizon. If he got to the fire-river, the pain would ease, if only a tiny bit. His body wouldn’t burn anymore. But the screeching harpies only grew closer, and Nico didn’t have the strength to fight off the hundreds of vulture-women that descended over him. He barely had the strength to run, much less fight. _

_ Claws raked down his spine. A howl broke from his raw throat as burning pain exploded through his back. His knees gave out and he sprawled, the sharp glassy bits tearing into his skin, pain on top of pain on top of pain. He grabbed for his sword but a talon snatched his hand away before he could reach. Dozens of harpies flew in, hundreds of claws tore at his flesh. Every part of his body was wracked in terrible, burning pain. Nico screamed and screamed.  _

_ Two hands grasped at his shoulders. He closed his eyes. He didn’t even want to know what else had descended on him. He didn’t want to know what terrible humanoids lurked down here. He didn’t want to know what they’d do with his gaunt, skinny, weak body. It sickened him to think about it.  _

_ “Nico!” _

_ Oh, gods, it knew his name. Whatever it was, it knew his name. That meant he’d slew it before. That meant it wanted revenge. “No-o! No! Please! I have nothing to give you!” That was a lie. Nico had his ring. He had his sword. He had his life. He had one or two other things that made him sick when he thought about them being stolen. “Just spare me, please!” _

_ “Nico, please! I don’t want to hurt you!” _

_ “Stop lying to me! Please,  _ please,  _ I… I don’t want to die!” _

_ “Nico, please, wake up!” _

  
  
  


Nico jerked awake, his muscles spasming violently as wailing sobs escaped his lips. He was lying on something cool and hard. His chest was tight. He couldn’t breathe. Cold drops ran down his temples, something wet and thick plugged up his nose. His chest shook with hyperventilating gasps, it  _ hurt,  _ but he couldn’t make it stop. He couldn’t force himself to move or open his eyes. He couldn’t even run the risk that he’d be  _ there  _ again. It would break him. He’d give up all hope.

Gentle hands clutched firmly at his shoulders. “Hey, hey, Nico, are you in there? Hey, it’s okay, man, you’re safe.” It was a male voice, but not Will’s voice. It was just slightly too frantic, out of line with Will’s normally calm demeanor. “Hey, can you look at me?”

Nico hiccuped. “Don’t…!”

There was a long pause. One of the hands moved from his shoulders. Nico braced himself for a blow or a stab, but nothing ever came. Fingers splayed on his chest. Finally, the voice murmured, “... Your heart is going a million miles an hour.”

“Take a breath,” a soft female voice cut in. “You’re okay. We’re not going to hurt you. I swear on the Styx, you will not be harmed by us.” 

A gentle touch brushed his hair off of his forehead. He moved his arm to try and find the source of the comfort. A hand wrapped his wrist.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, this couldn’t be happening again, he couldn’t be there again, he couldn’t be pinned again, creatures holding him down, preventing him from moving as they tore him apart. He couldn’t go through that again. A scream broke from his throat and he shot up, thrashed, hit, kicked, tried to wreak as much havoc as he could on the bodies by his side. His fist collided with something warm and solid.

The male voice gave a pained grunt. “Don’t hit me.” 

“Why sh-sho-ouldn’t I? How do I know you-u’re no-ot about to ki-ill me?” Nico sobbed with a frightening intensity. He leaned his head into his lap, protecting his underbelly.

The hands returned, gently holding his shoulders. “Because I’d never do that. You’re my friend, man. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Can you open your eyes?” the female voice murmured. “I think if you open your eyes and see it’s all okay, you’ll feel better.”

Nico sobbed.  _ I’m gonna open my eyes and see a fucking cyclops and a dracaena standing over me. They’re going to rip me to shreds. I’m going to die. I’m never gonna see Will again. I’m never gonna have another Hermes-cabin slumber party ever again. I’m never gonna feel Will’s kisses again, his hugs, his hands over mine. Oh, I adore his hands, so warm and soft. I’m never gonna hear his voice, warm and sweet in speaking and in song. I’m never gonna have those long sibling-like talks with Lou Ellen again, the ones where she cries and I cry and we fall asleep tangled up together in a bunk in her cabin. I’m never gonna taste Cecil’s cooking again, see his nervous smile as he watches me eat, listen to his requests for approval. I’m never gonna see the Stolls again, laugh in that genuine way they always extract, play witness to their stupid pranks and various misdemeanors. I’m never going to see Hazel again, cuddle her, speak to her in that warm and comfortable way that we always talk. I’m never going to comfort her again, feel her comfort me. I’m never going to feel her kindness, her caring, ever again. _

_ I love all of you. Please, take care of yourself and each other. I’m going to go be with Jason. Don’t forget my love for you. _

And with that, Nico opened his eyes.

Sobs broke from his throat. A concerned pair of sea-green eyes peered down at him. Percy was kneeling in front of him, his hands grasping Nico’s shoulders. He was sprawled on the floor in an unfamiliar cabin. He could vaguely hear a fountain running in the background.

“See? It’s okay,” Percy soothed. “I’m here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He pulled his hands away. “I’m sorry for grabbing you like that. I just… I didn’t know how else to make you snap out of it.” He gave a small, awkward smile. 

Nico reached weakly for Percy, half-falling forward, looping his arms around Percy’s neck. He needed to hold on to something. He couldn’t fall again. “... Please…”

Percy reciprocated the hug. “Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” he murmured. “Just hold on to me. I’ll get you out of here. Back to Will. He’ll do a better job of comforting you than I am.”

“... Do-on’t le-et me go,” Nico sobbed. “Oh, gods, please…”

Percy patted his back. “Don’t worry, man, I won’t. Here, how about I give you a piggyback ride?”

“I think he needs a minute,” came that reassuring female voice again. “Just take a moment to hold him.”

Percy nodded. “Okay.” He gave Nico a little squeeze. “You okay to sit here for a moment while you calm down?”

Nico nodded. He pulled away slightly, turning his head, trying to find the source of the calm, very-vaguely-Southern female voice. Annabeth was sitting to Percy’s right, concern written over her face. 

A tidal wave of relief slammed into his chest. He felt light, quivery inside, like his heart was a watery Jello that could break at any moment. He huddled back against Percy, tears running into his blue sweatshirt sleeve. Percy cupped a hand against his head, holding him gently. Nico pressed his face into Percy’s shoulder, his strong right arm, the bicep solid against his cheek. Gasps shook his thin frame, he couldn’t stop his tears. Annabeth moved to dry his eyes, gently pressing a tissue against his cheeks. He leaned slightly into her firm yet tender touch. Her gray eyes were full of soft sympathy. Nico couldn’t look at it.

It just hurt too much.

Percy rubbed his back, softly, mindlessly. His touch was solid and warm. Nico hugged himself from within the soft cocoon of Percy’s body. “... I’m so-o so-orry,” Nico quavered. “I di-idn’t me-ean to bre-eak do-own like that. I just…” He hiccuped. “... Ev-e-ry ni-ight I-I’m… I-I’m  _ there _ aga-ain.” He pressed his face further into Percy’s arm, trying to lose himself, trying to disappear. “... I ca-an’t do tha-at again.”

“Don’t worry,” Percy whispered. “I get it.” 

Annabeth shimmied into Percy’s arms, taking Nico in hers, almost spooning him. “Yeah, Nico. We both understand completely.”

Nico sniffled. He moved his hands to ball in the sleeves of Percy’s sweatshirt, his knuckles white against the cobalt fabric. He needed to hold onto something, anything, to keep himself from falling into the abyss. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was horror. The realization made exhausted tears stream down his cheeks, soaking Percy’s sleeve. He was tired, scared,  _ weak,  _ and his head was spinning--why? What had happened? How did he get here? 

Annabeth rested her chin on his head, curling herself a little closer around him. Nico was secretly grateful for the contact. It was nice to be wrapped up between them, four strong arms squeezing him close. He wouldn’t fall. He  _ couldn’t  _ fall. Not when he was being held like that. He took a breath, letting himself feel the warmth of the comfort, the quiet friendly reassurance that wrapped him.

It also helped that they understood. There were no questions asked, no ‘what did you see,’ no ‘what happened.’ There were no useless words. 

Nico loved them for that. 

“... Thanks,” Nico whispered, once he’d calmed down enough to stop hyperventilating. “... It means a lot.”

“No problem,” Percy rumbled. “You feeling better?”

“... Somewhat,” Nico sniffled. “... It’s nice to know that… it’s nice to know that I’m not in a position where I can fall back into the… the bad place.”

“I feel you,” Percy murmured. “Those times when you’re just drifting off and you get that falling sensation--man, that’s the  _ worst.  _ Freaks me out every time.”

Nico lay his ear over Percy’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, strong and sturdy. “... Same,” he murmured tiredly. 

They sat together in silence for a moment. Nico tried to breathe in time with Percy. Percy was relaxed, his breathing came slow and soft. Nico could feel him breathing into his hair. It was reassuring, in a weird way.

Finally, Nico murmured “... I might go back to Will.”

“Here, man, let me help you out. You might still be a little shaky,” Percy insisted.

“Will you carry me on your back? Like the old days?”

Percy laughed, his chuckles vibrating throughout Nico’s body. “Sure, man, whatever you want.”

They stood up. Percy moved Nico to his back. Nico buried his face in Percy’s shoulder, snuggling in comfortably against Percy’s muscled back. 

“Oof,” Percy managed, half-chuckling. “You’ve gotten heavier.”

“... Shut up,” Nico murmured, pressing even further into him.

He felt the vibrations as Percy began to walk. The sun beamed brightly on Nico’s back as they left the cabin, he could feel the warmth on his skin, burning against the pale flesh. He relished it. It meant he was alive and safe. He wasn’t falling. He was okay. He was okay and he was going to see Will. It was gonna be a good day.

“Where is the guy?” Percy asked.

“Probably the infirmary,” Annabeth inferred. “You take him. I’ll wait here, okay?”

“Okay,” Percy responded. It was only another moment before the warmth of the sun was replaced by the coolness of the Big House and finally, the smell of rubbing alcohol hit Nico’s nose. Something tight in Nico’s chest unraveled. He lifted his head off of Percy’s shoulder. 

“Will!” Percy yelled. “I’ve got your boy!”

As he pushed his way out of a side room, the sun glowing in his hair and his white lab coat fluttering around him, he looked like a proper angel. “Oh, thank the gods!” He ran to Percy’s side. “Here, let’s get him into a bed. What happened? How’d your little excursion go?”

Percy sighed. “Well, the drakon’s gone. Nico insisted on shadow-traveling home, though, which meant he passed out as soon as we got to my cabin.”

“Why didn’t you bring him to me immediately?” Will scolded. He took Nico from Percy. Nico let himself be held. The warmth of Will’s arms was Elysian. “Do you have any idea how  _ depleted  _ he gets after shadow-travel? It messes with his iron levels, his hydration… and don’t even get me started on his vitamin D. If he passes out after that, he needs immediate attention. Period.” Will gave a huff and lay Nico down in the bed, pressing a kiss into his porcelain brow.

“... I’m sorry.” Percy shuffled his feet. “I didn’t know how bad it was.”

“Because you’ve only ever listened to Nico on the subject,” Will laughed bitterly. “Nico wouldn’t be honest with you about it if the alternative killed him.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Percy asked.

“There’s Gatorade in the minifridge and iron tablets in the closet. Those should help,” Will sighed.

Percy nodded, slipping off to execute the aforementioned tasks.

Will pulled a flask of unicorn draught from his belt. He held the tip to Nico’s lips. “Here. Drink this.”

Nico gave a small smile. “Where did you even get this?”

Will smiled. “I have my sources. Now drink. I’ve been saving this for my Underworld babies. I’d hate to see it go to waste.”

Nico drank deeply. He wondered who Will had really intended the draught be for: him or Lou Ellen. After all, they both overworked themselves. They were equally reckless and stupid. They were both of the Underworld, really, after all, Hecate liked the dark as much as Hades did. Either way, he wasn’t complaining. The draught tasted sweet, and Will’s fingers over his forehead as he drank were even sweeter.

He pulled away feeling much more present than he had before. 

“Thanks,” he murmured. 

Will smiled, that warm, sweet smile that always melted Nico inside. “You’re welcome, darlin’.” He kissed Nico’s forehead, his lips warm. “Thank you for agreeing to help yourself.”

Nico melted under the touch. He pulled Will’s hand to his chest, feeling the warmth permeate every inch of his being, feeling it burn away all the pain. He couldn’t help but smile.

Percy returned with a bottle of Gatorade and the iron tablets. “Here you go, man.”

Nico rolled his eyes, but swallowed the pills anyway. He never quite understood why Will was so intent on giving him vitamins. After all, he wasn’t  _ that  _ deficient, was he? 

“Good boy,” Will cooed as he took the pills. “You’re doing so well.”

Nico only grunted. He curled up on his side.

Will pet his hair. “How are you feeling now, darlin’?”  
Nico gave him a wan smile. “... Little better.”

Will kissed his cheek. “Good. Now take a couple of hours to rest and you should be just fine.”

Nico looked up into Will’s eyes, so blue Nico felt he could swim in them, holding all the world’s warmth in their cyan depths. “... Will do,” he whispered. “Will you… will you stay with me?”

Will smiled softly. “I’ll stay nearby. I might not be able to stay by your bedside the entire time, but I’ll be in the room, okay?”

Nico nodded meekly. “... Okay.” He turned to Percy, who was slowly drifting towards the infirmary door. “Thanks again, man. Tell Annabeth that too, will you?”

“No problem, dude,” Percy nodded. “Yeah, I’ll run the message.” Percy drifted out the door, closing the door carefully behind him.

Nico pulled the sheets up over him. “... Will?”

“Mhm?”

“... Will you… will you… hold my hand?”

Will blushed slightly, smiling. “Of course, darlin’.” He took Nico’s hand, holding it gently within his own large soft ones. He put a kiss on the small knuckles.

“... Thanks,” Nico murmured. “... You have… really nice hands.”

Will gave a soft laugh. “Hardly. But I’m glad you’re enjoying them.”

“... Always,” Nico murmured. “... I’ve always liked your… your hands.”

Will lay his head next to Nico’s. “Thank you, darlin.”

They fell into a comfortable silence. Nico focused only on the warmth of Will’s hands over his, soothing and soft. His mind drifted into a comfortable headspace, his mind filling with  _ Will  _ and  _ safety.  _ He wasn’t falling. He wasn’t about to die.

He would be okay.


	142. Pre-Tratie-What Makes A Traitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katie has something she needs to say to Travis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for guilt, general sad feelings.

“... Travis?”

Travis lifted his head at the sound of a quiet call behind him. He had been having a quiet breakfast with Connor on the dock of the canoe lake shortly after Manhattan. Neither of them had any energy to do much of anything. In fact, the only reason either of them had any energy to do anything was because Chiron had insisted they spend at least a couple hours a day out of their cabins. 

He turned. Katie was standing behind him. Her hands were clasped. “... Oh… hey.” 

“... Can we talk?” she asked.

Travis sighed. “What about? You wanna bitch me out about the rabbits some more, or what?”

Katie shook her head. “... No. Not the rabbits. I wanted to… I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Travis studied her. He was captivated by the way her long dark hair tumbled around her face, her body, messy yet… kinda hot? He couldn’t tell. “... For what?”

“For calling you a traitor,” Katie sighed. “You’re… you’re not like that. I don’t really think you’re a traitor. I don’t think anyone did. I’m so sorry.”

Travis swallowed. He felt something sore deep within his chest swell up again, something that had been hurting him for years. “... Thanks,” he murmured. “It means a lot.” 

“Yeah.” Connor’s voice came as a shock. He hadn’t spoken much since the battle. Every time he did, it made Travis jump a little. “You really hurt him, Katie. He was already insecure about being related to Luke. You made it so much worse.”

Katie squeezed her eyes shut. “... I’m so sorry, Travis. I didn’t… I didn’t know how much I hurt you. I didn’t mean to hurt you the way that I did.”

Travis looked up at her. Katie was struck by the vulnerability of his eyes. “... Do you mean that? I thought you hated us.”

“Of course I mean that. Whatever my feelings were, it wasn’t an excuse to accuse you of trying to get us all killed. I’m so sorry. I was so stressed, I…” She swallowed. feeling tears jewel in her eyes. “... I’m so sorry.”

Travis felt a sudden urge to brush the tears out of her eyes. “... It’s… well, it’s not okay. I don’t like being hurt. Look, I know I’m chaotic. But I’m not out to get people killed, by gods.”

Katie sniffled. “I’m sorry. I really am. You’re not a traitor. You and Connor risked your lives for the camp just like the rest of us. And it was probably harder for you because Luke was… Luke was your brother.” She wiped her eyes on slender, graceful fingers. “Oh, gods, Stolls, I’m really sorry. It was one of those things I said in haste. I wasn’t paying attention to what I was saying. I’m so, so sorry.”

Travis pursed his lips. He passed her his napkin. “Here. Wipe your face.” 

Katie took it. She held it to her eyes, those shining, vibrant green eyes. “Thank you. I’m so, so, so sorry.”

Travis sighed. “Look. Call me an idiot, fine. I am an idiot. Call me reckless, fine. I am reckless. Call me impulsive, fine. I am impulsive. Call me chaotic, fine. I am chaotic. Call me destructive, fine. I am destructive. But do not--do  _ not-- _ call me a traitor. Do  _ not  _ call me someone who turns their back on their family or friends, few as they may be. That’s not me. That is.  _ Not. Me.”  _ Travis’s voice broke. He took a deep breath, swallowing hard.

“... I’m sorry,” Katie whimpered. “I don’t really think you’re a traitor. No one does. I’m so sorry.”

Travis turned back, staring down. “... Thanks,” he whispered. “... Thanks.”

“... What can I do to fix this?”

Travis swallowed. Part of him wanted to ask for a kiss. The other part of him wanted to ask to shove her into the lake. Fortunately, Connor proposed a more sensible option. “How about this? Every time someone says “oh, Stolls, you’re traitors! You say no, they’re not, they’re warriors and heroes just like you and I.”

Katie nodded. “I can do that. Of course I will.” She wiped her eyes. “Thank you, Connor. That means a lot.”

“No problem,” Connor nodded, turning back to his bacon and eggs.

“So… I’ll see you later,” Katie tried, shifting back and forth. “I’m sorry. Again.” She turned, running off.

Travis looked down, staring at the ground. He wasn’t hungry anymore. “... See you,” he mumbled. He felt a dull sickness in his chest that he didn’t know how to soothe. He blinked. “... Con-con?”

“Mhm?” Connor asked.

“... I don’t feel so good.”

“Don’t vomit on me,” Connor grumbled.

“No, it’s… I loved Luke. Before he defected. He was my big brother. He was incredibly important to me. I… by not following him, did I… did I turn my back on him?”

Connor shook his head. “Don’t be an idiot, Trav. He turned his back on us. You stayed with Cecil and I and the others. You’re not like him.”

Travis sniffled. Tears made their slimy track down his cheeks. “... But… oh, gods, Con-con.”

“Hey. Don’t start crying. I don’t have the energy to make you feel better. You’re not a traitor. You’ll never be a traitor. Don’t cry,” Connor huffed.

Travis took a breath, wiping his eyes, pressing his soreness down as far as he could into the numb emptiness of the dullest depths of himself, into the place where he put all the other sore burning rotting things that had pained his seventeen short years. It ached, it really did, but he couldn’t cry. It wasn’t an option. He was the older brother. He didn’t get to cry.

He stood up and silently crossed the camp to put away the food he no longer had the appetite to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read probably two or three different Tratie apology fics. I felt like writing my own.


	143. Some Chrisse-Are You Welcome?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon suggested I write about the reactions of the campers upon learning Chris is back from the Titans. I obliged, as I always oblige, because I love you guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for verbal abuse, suicidal thoughts, bad sibling relationships. Drew looks like a terrible person, Malcolm looks like a tiny bit of a jerk but not nearly as bad as Drew comes off here.

Chris wanted to run.

His nose was thick with the smell of the campfire. The roar of the campers surrounding him was deafening, their eyes burned painfully into him. His knees were shaking. He could faintly hear murmurs of  _ traitor  _ and  _ attack  _ and  _ Labyrinth  _ and  _ why is he here?  _ It made him want to vomit. He could only imagine what they’d do to him if they were released.

He made eye contact with Clarisse from across the amphitheatre. Her brow was furrowed slightly, as it always was, but Chris knew she wasn’t annoyed with him. She was hunched in on herself too, her lips set in a line. Her eyes were dark with rage. He realized then that if the campers turned on him, she’d be right by his side.

That was comforting.

Chiron trotted over to the middle of the amphitheatre, standing next to Chris. “Silence, please!”

The campers quieted slightly. 

“Hello? I said  _ silence, please!”  _

Finally, silence. Chris took a breath. The silence made the simple act of drawing breath so much easier. 

“So.” He took a breath. “I have some fantastic news-yes, you in the back, there.” Chiron pointed to a raised hand.

“Why is he here?” came the yell.

_ Don’t cry,  _ Chris thought.  _ Not now. Not in front of everybody. Wait until you’re back in the cabin. _

Chiron took a deep, even breath. “I will get to that when I get to that.” His voice was deadly calm. “Now. I have some fantastic news. By the power of our dear camp director, the great and merciful Dionysus, this young man, who Luke’s army cruelly plunged into insanity--”

“--after he betrayed us all--” someone yelled, the same voice as before.

Chiron gritted his teeth, but kept going. “This young man, who Luke’s army cruelly plunged into insanity, is now restored to his prior state.”

“So what, he can run off and betray us again?”

“So he can spy on us for Kronos?”

“Send him away!” jeered a female voice.

“Throw him back in the Labyrinth!” 

Chris’s knees were trembling. Tears stung at his eyes. Travis and Clarisse had warned him that there were campers whose rage was pretty strong. But he hadn’t known that Chiron would drag him before the whole camp, force him to hear all the insults they could possibly come up with. 

Suddenly, there was a silence punctuated only by the sharp  _ crunch  _ of army boots. Chris looked up as a hand grabbed his wrist. He jolted, his stomach clenching in panic before his eyes met a dark, burning gaze. Clarisse yanked on his wrist and pulled him from the amphitheatre. Neither he nor Chiron protested. 

They wound up pressed against the wall behind the amphitheatre, Clarisse shielding Chris’s body with her own as slow tears began to leak from his eyes. Clarisse didn’t say anything to him, merely buried his face in her chest, in the red leather that covered her breastplate. Chris could vaguely hear Chiron speaking, his voice sharp yet calm, but he couldn’t have made out what he was saying if his life had depended on it. 

It was a long time before Chris could form proper words through the thick, choking sobs that broke from his throat. “... Why did you save me?”

Clarisse only sighed. “Because I couldn’t have lived with myself if I didn’t.”  _ Also, I love you. But I can’t say that right now. Not when you’re breaking inside. Not when half the camp is jeering at you. _

Chris trembled.  _ Throw him back… throw him back… traitor, spy, betrayal, Kronos, Labyrinth… whyishehere…  _ His chest heaved violently. “... I… I should… I should go… find somewhere else… I can’t stay…” His breath hitched. He balled his fists further into Clarisse’s armor straps. “I can’t stay here…”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Clarisse said flatly. “If I have to fight every last motherfucker at this camp for it, you’re staying. You’ve learned your lesson. You’re not going anywhere.”

Chris shivered, pressing himself into her just a little further. “‘M sorry.”

Clarisse only held him. Her hands were firm as they rubbed on his back. Chris couldn’t help but lean in and enjoy it. Her body was firm and solid. Chris could have stayed there all day, wrapped up in her safety, her warmth. Her strength, the harsh bloodred leather of her armor, was beyond soothing.

Chris didn’t know how long they sat there before the sound of hooves rang out again. Chiron stood over them. “Chris,” he murmured.

Chris pulled away from Clarisse’s embrace. “... Chiron.” His voice was rough.

“I’m so sorry, my son,” Chiron whispered softly, kneeling down. “They… they don’t mean it. They’re only looking for a scapegoat. They’re scared. That’s all.”

Chris nodded. “... I know,” he whispered. 

“I think I was able to convince them that you’re not going to defect again. I think you’re okay.” Chiron shook his head. “I’m sorry about them.”

Chris sniffled. “... No, I’m… I’m sorry. I’m a traitor. They’re right. I’m the one who defected. I’m the… I’m the wrongdoer. Not them.”

“You are not irredeemable,” Chiron soothed. “You have done one thing wrong. You have repented for your sins. You are not a traitor any longer. You came back. They will see that in time. I think once their fury calms down, they will find it in themselves to forgive you. After all, any one of them would desire the same kindness if they were in your shoes. I think I got them to realize that.”

Chris swallowed. “... Who said… who said I should have been thrown back in the Labyrinth?” He didn’t know if he wanted to know the answer, but he was so curious. He had to ask.

Chiron sighed. “It was... it was an Ares camper. Evan.”

“I’ll kill the motherfucker!” Clarisse snapped. “I swear to fuck, when I see him, it is  _ On. Sight!”  _

“I’ll let you handle it,” Chiron sighed. “Remember, no maiming, no killing, nothing that would result in permanent physical deformity or disability. Remember, he’s your brother. You care for him. Or are supposed to, anyway.”

Clarisse nodded. “Aye, sir! I will  _ not _ do my worst!” She got up and ran off, leaving Chris with Chiron.

Chris stared at Chiron’s tweedy professor’s jacket. He wanted to press his face into it and cry. His heart just  _ hurt,  _ and he was so  _ tired,  _ but he didn’t know if he could trust his siblings anymore. It almost ached worse than the nightmarish memories that played in his mind throughout his insanity. Oh, gods, what had he done? How could he have been so  _ stupid?  _ He’d loved Luke, loved him dearly, loved him so much he’d followed him blindly, blindly into the abyss and came out  _ ruined,  _ broken and pained and abandoned. He just wanted to be held, but of course, the world would not be that merciful, not now that Clarisse was gone--would it?

“You should go back to the cabin,” Chiron murmured. “Travis is worried.”

Chris sniffled. “... He’s the only one, I’d bet.”

“It shouldn’t matter. Travis is not only the Head Counselor, he’s also the  _ older  _ Head Counselor. If he wants it, it shall be.” Chiron stood up, extending one large, worn hand to Chris. “Now come. You cannot stay here and weep. It isn’t healthy.”

Tears clouded in Chris’s eyes. “... I want to stay here.”

“Firm no,” Chiron promptly replied. “Now, are you going to come with me to allay the concerns of your dear half-brother, or must I be forced to drag you?”

Chris took Chiron’s hand and stood up. They walked around the wall of the amphitheatre. Chris couldn’t help but notice that the roar of the campers had almost died out. When they entered the amphitheatre, it was nearly empty. 

Malcolm Pace cornered them as soon as they arrived. “Hey, Chris, I just wanted to say, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to… look, if you’re really back, and on our side, then I’m really sorry I implied otherwise.”

Chris looked at him. The light of the dying fire glinted off his glasses, obscuring his deep gray eyes. Chris couldn’t tell his expression. “... It’s okay. And I am back. I’m not… I…” He swallowed. “... I’m here to stay. I swear on the Styx.”

Malcolm nodded. “Then welcome back, man, and I’m sorry I said you were gonna run right back to Kronos.”

“Better than the guy who wanted to have me thrown back into the Labyrinth and left to die.” Chris was trying for a joke, but it didn’t really work. Maybe it was because the joke made his stomach turn.

Malcolm snorted. “The Labyrinth is dead, dude. It collapsed when Daedalus died. You’d think an Ares kid would realize the outcome of a battle, but noooo.” Malcolm rolled his eyes.

Chris blinked. “... I didn’t know that.”

Malcolm sighed. “Well, you know now.”

“Also, you shouldn’t dismiss people just due to parentage,” Chris nagged. “That’s how this whole shit show started.”

“I didn’t mean to imply it was all Ares kids. I was just saying that  _ as  _ an Ares kid, as a child of war, he should realize the outcome of a battle,” Malcolm explained. “Sorry for offending.”

“Nah, we’re good,” Chris replied. “Where’s Travis?”

“One of the Stolls is over there. I can’t tell which one,” Malcolm shrugged, pointing to a figure silhouetted in the firelight. “The other took the rest of the Hermes kids and went back to the cabin. Or at least, I hope that’s where they went. By the way, where’s Clarisse?”

“She went to go beat up the kid who said I should be put back into the Labyrinth.”

“Sounds right,” Malcolm snorted. “Either way, I won’t hold you up.” He nodded. “Chris. Chiron.”

“Malcolm,” Chris nodded. “I’ll see you later.”

Malcolm ran back in the direction of the cabins. Chris moved over to the lone figure. “Stoll?”

The figure raised his head. Chris caught the bright amber of Travis’s eyes glowing in the firelight. “Chris!” Travis smiled widely. He ran around the fire and wrapped his arms tightly around Chris. “Oh, gods, Chris, I’m sorry.”

Chris melted into the embrace, leaning his head on Travis’s shoulder. His throat was tight. He could only barely form words. “... Maybe I… maybe I… should I just go? Should I just get out of here?” 

Travis held him tighter. “No. Like it or not, you need to stay here. Those people, the ones who were yelling? It was only a few people. Malcolm already apologized, too.”

“... I know, but the few people who started yelling stuff… you know there’s a ton of people who weren’t yelling but were thinking the same thing,” Chris sobbed. 

“If there are, then we’ll fight it together,” Travis murmured soothingly. 

“I swear, I’m back, I swear on the Styx.” Gasps shook Chris’s thin frame.

“See? You say that and you’re good! No one breaks a Stygian promise,” Travis insisted. “No one.”

Chris was quiet. He let his tears rain into Travis’s shoulder. Travis held him for a moment, breathing in the scent of the dying fire, gray from the emotional pain. Finally, he murmured “Let’s go back to the cabin. It’s more comfortable to cuddle in a proper bed.”

The idea of Travis cuddling him as he drifted off to sleep almost made him cry harder. He nodded, pulling away.

Travis patted his eyes dry. “There. That’s a little better. Now you’re more presentable for the… the siblings.”

Chris nodded. He wrapped an arm around Travis’s waist and Travis wrapped an arm around his. He let himself be led back to the cabin. He didn’t look up the entire time. He didn’t want to see anybody. He didn’t want cruelty or sympathy. He only wanted to stop feeling. He didn’t want to be Chris Rodriguez the  _ traitor,  _ Chris Rodriguez the  _ spy,  _ Chris Rodriguez the  _ enemy  _ anymore. He just wanted to be… what? Even his name was tainted. 

Maybe he wanted to be dead. Fading out of existence. Lost in the annals of time. No one would think of him as an enemy if he no longer existed to despise. 

Travis led him into the cabin. He didn’t look at anyone else. He could feel people looking at him, but he didn’t care. So what if they stared at him? He knew he was trash. He knew he was the enemy. He knew he was scum undeserving of life. 

“I’m sorry,” a choked, teary female voice rang out. “They shouldn’t… they shouldn’t have yelled all those things at you. Especially not what… what Evan yelled. About you needing to be put back in the… no, I’m… I’m so fucking sorry.” 

Chris looked up. Lou Ellen was curled up in Cecil’s arms. Chris’s brain barely registered the younger girl. “... Yeah,” he mumbled. “... It’s cool. Half of them had… had valid concerns. I was… I was a traitor.” Chris’s voice cracked. 

“I was talking about the send you away shit. The shit that Drew and Evan were yelling,” Lou Ellen sniffled. “You don’t deserve that.”

Chris didn’t know how to respond. He swallowed hard. His eyes stung. “... Um… thanks,” he whispered. 

“You’re doing good,” Travis assured Lou Ellen. “Chris just… he’s in a fucky headspace right now. He needs some time to sleep. You can have this conversation with him tomorrow.”

Lou Ellen sniffled and nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Travis sat Chris down on Connor’s lower-bunk bed and crossed the room. “Hey. Don’t cry, Lou. It’s okay.” He brushed tears out of her eyes. “He’ll be okay. We’ll help him. I’ll make it okay.”  _ I can’t make this okay. We might all die. But I have to say something. She’s only fourteen. She doesn’t deserve to have that much weight on her shoulders. _

_ In the end, do any of us? We’re all children. Chris is the oldest person here and he’s only sixteen. And he’s already so fucking broken. And it’s not his fault. It’s Luke’s.  _

_ Do I even love Luke anymore? _

Travis crossed the room.  _ Luke was my brother. I loved him more than anything. I’d never had an older brother before. I’d always been the older one. I’d always had the weight of comfort and protection on my shoulders. And then he came, and he was gonna protect me, and he was gonna take care of us, and he was gonna make it okay. And then he betrayed all of that. Broke it on the sidewalk. Decided that we were the enemy, and we were no longer worth his kindness.  _

Travis silently pulled Chris up to his bunk.  _ But even after that, I couldn’t let go of the idea that someday he’d come back and be our Luke. Our big brother. Our protector. But now, seeing what he did to Chris, hearing Chris sobbing in the night, I know that won’t happen. He loved Chris more than any of us, and he broke Chris so thoroughly that he needed Dionysus’s blessing to recover.  _

_ Oh, gods, this hurts so badly. _

Travis pulled the blankets over them and snuggled against Chris, resting his chin on his head. Chris melted into the warmth of the sheets, letting a few more quiet sobs leak into Travis’s collarbone. 

Travis didn’t know why he did what he did next. He just felt like he had to. He raised his head and pressed a kiss on Chris’s forehead. 

Chris looked up. His dark eyes were red and swimming with tears. He didn’t say anything, but there was a vague expression of gratitude written on his face, and that was enough for Travis to understand that he’d been grateful for the contact. Travis managed a small smile. “Hey, Connor, would you turn off the lights?”

Connor grumbled and complied. The cabin fell into a dimness lit only by the bathroom light. Travis closed his eyes. Something bubbled up from his pit of repressed emotions. He felt his eyes sting.

In the darkness, he let his tears fall in time with Chris’s, until eventually, they both succumbed to the need to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rick never actually touched on how the Hermes kids reacted to Luke's betrayal. Part of me wants a spin-off series that's only about the Hermes kids, but in all honesty, after TON, I don't think there's gonna be anything substantial happening in the Riordanverse. He's already confirmed that his new Celtic-mythology series is gonna be in a new universe, so... 
> 
> Idk. Maybe I'll write that Hermes kid fanfic. If I have a good idea and enough energy, focus and time, that is.


	144. Implied Solangelo-Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's made some observations about people.

“You know what surprises me sometimes?” Will asks, looking up at the ceiling of Cecil’s side of his and Lou Ellen’s bedroom.

Cecil turns to look at him. “What, bro?”

“How differently people feel pain,” Will sighs. 

Cecil raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”  
“I mean, when I take Clarisse’s pain, it’s all rage. It’s so much rage. She hates everyone and everything. Her parents, her brothers, Percy, the gods, the titans, the giants, the Romans, social media, monsters in general, Luke Castellan, Drew Tanaka, Connor Stoll--”

“--Why Connor? I don’t think he’s all that bad.”

“Dunno,” Will responds. “Anyway, she’s got so much anger in her. I take her pain and it burns in my chest like a fire. So much rage, and it’s all outwardly destructive,” he sighs, shifting on where he’s lying on Cecil’s bed. “As opposed to Percy, anyway. When I take Percy’s, there’s rage too, but it’s all inward. Percy’s mad at himself. He hates himself. When I take his pain, it just drips from him. And I also get just… I get this  _ tiredness _ from Percy that I don’t get from many others. Just a heavy sort of thing. Like he’s been running for years with no place to rest. It hurts me, it does, but I’m not sure how to help. It’s heavy and hot and tiring, like a pillow over your face.

“And then Nico’s different from both. Nico runs on extremes. His pain is… he’s lonely. He’s so lonely. It’s like a void you can fall into. Nico is very, very alone, even now. He’s alone in a world he doesn’t know he can trust. 

“And then once in a blue moon Nico goes into these rages, and then his pain is hot flames like Clarisse’s. It’s always the same things he rages over. Any time he is reminded of the Huntresses, he rages. It’s one of the few things that makes him truly rage. Nico holds grudges for a long time, that’s true, but not against that many. Really, he’s just a deathly lonely person, and it hurts me to know that no matter how much love I pour into him, there’s still that cold shadowy part of his soul that the light can’t touch. I’ve always wondered if he really even means to hide himself from me in that way, because he insists that he doesn’t hide from me at all.”

Cecil looks over at Will. Will has a sort of softly thoughtful look on his face. “Damn,” Cecil starts. “That’s… you’re clearly thought about this a lot.”

Will nods. “I’ve given it some thought, yeah.”

“You’re a thinker,” Cecil agrees. “I like that about you.”

Will smiles. “And you wouldn’t think if it killed your ass. And I love you for it.”

“... No homo?”

Will touched his chest and drew back. “Cecil, my man, my friend, my dearest pal. I’m shocked that you would assume that my sexuality would mean I’m automatically into you.”

Cecil laughed. “Just makin’ sure nothing changed since we last checked.”

“Never will, man,” Will responded. “No, you’re too… you’re too important a friend for me to ever want to be with that way.”

Cecil grinned, reaching over to ruffle Will’s hair from where he lay beside him. “Same here, buddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent six hours writing and researching a fic that wound up sucking and I hate it so much  
> It wasn't this, obviously. Idk when/if it'll be out.


	145. Non-shippy-A New Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy and Nico still have a bunch of unresolved stuff going on between them. Rick never actually had them apologize to each other, so I did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for homophobic language, internalized homophobia, etc. Takes place immediately after Nico's time in the infirmary.

“Can I sit here?”

Nico nearly jumped. He had assumed that sitting on the beach to watch the sunset would put him at risk of running into Percy, but he had assumed that he’d be louder upon approach. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, you can.”

Percy gave him a small shaky smile. He sat down. “Thanks, man. I just wanted… I wanted to have your ear for a moment, if you’ll allow me.”

Nico raised his eyebrows. “About what?”

“About what you confessed to me before you went into the infirmary.”

Nico’s heart plummeted into his stomach. He wanted to vomit. Now he was in for it. Percy was going to kill him. Or he was going to say that he never wanted to speak with him again. All that courage that he’d had when he confessed--high on Reyna’s tenderness, Jason’s friendship and Hazel’s sisterly love--had vanished. He bit his lip. “... Okay.”

“I just wanted to ask… why  _ me?”  _

Nico started before sighing and melting into a slump. “You can’t tell?”

“I have no fucking idea,” Percy replied.

“Imagine this,” Nico sighed. “You’re in trouble. You’re under attack. You think you might die. And all of a sudden, this… this man, this  _ hero,  _ jumps in and saves you and takes you to safety. And they’re like… I mean, you play video games, right?”

Percy nodded. “I’m not good at them, but yeah.”

“Okay. They’re like your favorite video game brought to life. And best of all, they care about you. And even though…” Nico swallowed. “And even after they couldn’t… couldn’t save the one who was most precious to you, you still couldn’t… you still couldn’t shake the crush. And it burned so deep that… that I didn’t even really know how to handle it. It… it just… it really… it hurt. I don’t know how to describe it other than that. I’ve never been good with words.”

“... Sounds like you were really conflicted,” Percy summarized. “Yeah, I’m… I’m sorry. if I had known, I could have… I don’t know. I was… I was really fucking shocked.”

“I know. It isn’t normal,” Nico said miserably. “You don’t need to tell me I’m weird or broken or anything. There’s a reason they call us  _ queers,  _ Percy.”   


“Godsdammit, dude! I didn’t mean it like  _ that!”  _ Percy replied. “Come on, man, don’t write me off as some kind of terrible person. I was gonna say that I was shocked because I thought you hated me.”

Nico cleared his throat. “I couldn’t. No matter what I tried. I spent a year telling myself you were a murderer, that you hated Bianca, that you hated  _ me.  _ I told myself everything I could to make myself hate you, but in the end, I just… couldn’t. That was… that was the  _ other _ reason I opted to stay at Geryon’s ranch for that… however long, it’s slipping my mind now, it was at least a few days. Either way, I needed to think about… about you. And how I really felt about you. And about whether Bianca was right when she said I was mad at her and not you. And I… my result was… was… it terrified me. When I realized what my feelings were, I just… I mean, I cried. I cried myself to sleep. And when I woke up, I was… I was numb. I didn’t know what to do, so I just left. I went back into the Labyrinth. I don’t know why. Anyway, it’s kind of uneventful from there. Minos turned on me, chained me up, dumped me at Daedalus’s feet and that’s where you found me.” He sighed.

“I feel like getting betrayed and kidnapped counts as ‘eventful,’ Nico,” Percy nagged.

Nico gave a small shrug. “I’ve been through worse. Anyways, I couldn’t hate you. I tried so hard. But every time I got in trouble, every time I needed anything, you were there. And I… I… that made an impact on me. Not many demigods--adult, adolescent, whatever--would offer unconditional help and support to a son of Hades, especially not a f--ah,  _ queer  _ one, especially not after they called them a murderer and evil and what have you. But you did, and… and that…” Nico swallowed, looking up at Percy, his eyes wide, soft…  _ grateful.  _ “That made me… it made me love you, I think.”

Percy put a hand on his back. This poor, hurting little kid. This kid who was swallowed fully in a sweater that had  _ Solace--Cabin 7  _ written on it. This kid who had been neglected, betrayed, abandoned, beaten, starved, deprived, had all the evils of the world shoved down his young throat at an age when most people’s only worries were keeping their grades at a decent level so their parents wouldn’t be mad. This kid who was  _ so desperately lonely  _ that any form of human decency was viewed as something to  _ fall in love  _ over. Percy almost wanted to cry. “... Can I hug you? Please?”

Nico’s pale cheeks colored. “I’d rather you not,” he grumbled.

Percy nodded. He moved his hand off of Nico’s back. “Sorry, man. I just… I wanted to help.”

Nico sighed. “And that’s why you’re lethal, Percy. You can’t just be kind and just and good and courageous to everybody and not expect some to fall in love. It isn’t possible.”

Percy swallowed. He took a breath, willing down the flood of mucus that would inevitably fill his sinuses if he didn’t keep air moving. “... Do you really think all those things about me?”

Nico gave a dry snort, not a real laugh, but something similar. “Why would I lie to you?”

Percy sniffled. “... I don’t… I don’t know. I just… I thought you hated me. That’s all. And… I  _ deserve  _ to be hated by you, Nico. I  _ did  _ fail you. I  _ did  _ let Bianca die. Sure, I saved your ass. Sure, I got you out of the jar. But I clearly wasn’t there when… when you actually needed me. I mean, where was I when you were crying yourself out because you didn’t know how to handle your feelings? Where was I when Minos was dragging you away in chains? Where was I when you were plunging into hell because you thought it was your only option? Where was I when you  _ really  _ needed me?” Percy’s voice cracked slightly.

Nico closed his eyes. “Questing, making out with Annabeth, memory wiped, or simply consumed with other things, I suppose,” he sighed. “Half of it wasn’t even your fault.”

Percy squeezed his eyes shut. He ached to reach out and hold Nico, squeeze him tight, make up for all the times Nico needed a hug but couldn’t get one, make up for all the times Nico was just  _ so crushingly lonely  _ and no one was there for him. “... I’m still really sorry.”

Nico gave a long blink, opening his eyes, taking a deep breath. Bianca’s words floated back into his head.  _ You have to forgive.  _

After all this time, how different even was he? He’d sworn he wasn’t that reckless little kid who had charged blindly into the Labyrinth, swearing he’d kill Percy, that Percy was a murderer and that he deserved whatever hells Nico could wreak. He’d told himself post-Manhattan that he was just going to put Percy out of his mind. That Percy was just a reminder of a bad part in his life. That he was going to reinvent himself in the Underworld and forget entirely about everything that brought him there. 

But he couldn’t. Percy stuck with him. All the love and hatred and broken trust he held had been a swirling whirlpool in his chest, sucking him into oblivion, consuming him. Hazel had been a good distraction, New Rome had really helped, but it hadn’t lasted long, and as per usual, Percy had come crashing back into his life like a meteor, bringing back all the old stinging feelings.

That had been when he’d made the decision to jump into Tartarus.

It would be for the better, he thought. No one would miss me, he thought. I’m evil, he thought. I’ve screwed everything up, with Bianca, with Percy, with everyone, he thought. 

Bianca had wanted him to forgive Percy.

Nico swallowed.  _ For Bianca. _

“You’re forgiven,” Nico whispered, his voice hoarse. “And… I’m sorry. For saying awful things to you. For saying it was your fault when it wasn’t. I was immature. I was hurting. I’ve never…” Nico gave a dry half-chuckle. “I’ve never dealt with pain well. And… I felt like Bianca liked you more than me. And… look, Percy, I’m sorry. I was in agony. But that didn’t excuse my actions. I’m so sorry.”

Percy looked at him, his expression gentle. “Thanks, Nico. You’re forgiven as well. It means a lot. No, I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt her, I swear. Her death hurt me too. I’ve felt so much guilt ever since. I’m so, so sorry.”

Nico sighed. He felt tears rimming in his eyes. “... I should have… it wasn’t your fault. I just… I think I blamed you just because you were closest. It was the fault of the Hunters, not yours. So… can we be friends?”

Percy chuckled. “Of course, man. I’d love to be your friend.” 

Nico wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. “To a new start?”

Percy held up his hand. They high-fived. “To a new start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nico kind of scared me when I read the books for the first time at age 11. I think it was mostly because Jason (in HOH) and Percy (in BOTL) were kind of scared of him. Idk. He's not scary when we see him from his and Reyna's POVs.
> 
> Now I just feel kind of bad for him.


	146. Mentions of Poseidon/Sally, Sally/Paul, Percabeth- Cry Like A Dying Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy has a nightmare. It hurts him so badly that he needs to go outside and scream. Fortunately or unfortunately, his screams wake some guys from up high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for gore (it's in a dream sequence, but it's still fairly graphic), vomit, suicidal thoughts, mentions of child abuse, mentions of murder, Poseidon thinks Estelle is Percy's daughter.

_ Percy was floating.  _

_ It was dark. His feet were off the ground. He could faintly see a pair of blue sneakers floating below him--his feet. He remembered those shoes. Those had been his favorite sneakers when he was around thirteen or fourteen.  _

_ But where was he? That was more pressing, wasn’t it? He couldn’t see very far. He was in a long, dark shaft of sorts. The shaft was leaning at a 70 degree angle or so. The walls were glowing very faintly. He didn’t know how he was levitating the way he was, either. Surely he should have fallen into the gears he saw below himself. He was no son of Zeus. He couldn’t fly. Why was he just… weightless inside here? He tried to move, but found himself unable. Okay. That was different. _

_ Before he could really think about it, the shaft began to move. Metal creaked loudly all around him. He seemed to be tucked into a pocket of safety within the shaft, moving with it as it moved. He couldn’t hear anything that was potentially outside the shaft, but before he knew it, the shaft was straight up and down. It moved again, swinging out back to an angle, then straightening. The movement repeated seconds later. Ugh. Percy could have done without that. His stomach gurgled uncomfortably. Percy wondered briefly if there was a bathroom nearby. _

_ Something moved nearby, but not in the same way that the gears were. A girl was pushing her way up through a hatch that Percy hadn’t realized was there. He opened his mouth to call to her. “... Hey!” _

_ She didn’t seem to hear him. She looked up, but looked right through him. Percy’s blood ran cold. He recognized those wide dark eyes, those freckled cheeks, that long, silky hair, the silver coat.  _

_ He was looking directly into the eyes of Bianca di Angelo. _

_ He cried out again, nothing clear, just a faint howl. Bianca didn’t notice. She crawled up further, reaching for a cable that was somewhat above Percy’s head. He was eye-level with her now. He could see every detail of her face. She looked very innocent, very soft. A hot, nearly childish determination filled her eyes.  _

_ In her hand, she held a small statue of Hades. _

_ She pushed herself a bit higher, moving past Percy. He saw her hair catch in between two gears, the gears eating up more and more of the raven silk as they turned. Percy yelled. “Bianca, your hair!” _

_ She didn’t notice. _

_ “Bianca!” _

_ No response. _

_ “BIANCA!” _

_ She turned her head. Her eyes widened. She yanked at her hair, but it was too badly trapped. She fumbled desperately at her hip for her dagger, but the sheath was empty. She tried to tear at it with her teeth, strands breaking, but she just wasn’t quick enough. Her face cracked against the cold metal gear. She turned back to Percy, tears flooding down her cheeks as the gears slowly closed on her head. _

_ Percy tried to look away. He really did. But he was paralyzed, unable to move as the gears slowly closed, as her screams of pain went silent, as her blood ran like a river down the shaft. Her head burst like a watermelon. Percy howled and gagged. His body lurched. He tumbled hard. Something hard and unforgiving caught him. Vomit spewed from his mouth.  _

His eyes flew open, suddenly. He hadn’t realized they were closed. He was tangled in his blankets on the floor of his bedroom, his familiar bedroom in his mother’s apartment, with the chicken soup she’d given him the previous night spewed out of his stomach over the wooden floor. Tears dripped from his eyes. He couldn’t breathe. Once again, he’d been helpless to do anything, helpless to save her, helpless, helpless,  _ helpless…  _

He wanted to scream. He wanted to climb out onto the fire escape and scream into the night. No one would notice. It was New York. No one noticed a teenager screaming. He could sit squarely in the middle of Central Park and cry his lungs out and no one would spare him a second look. No one would care. Well, perhaps Annabeth would. But she was down in Boston working on something with Magnus and without her, no one would notice. And besides, he was seventeen. He was way too old to go to his mother and ask her if it was okay if he cried on her shoulder. He knew she’d say yes, but still, it would be too embarrassing.

He stood up dizzily. His knees shook. His body felt like lead all over, lead supported by two blocks of Jello. He looked down at the puddle of vomit he’d left on the floor and his stomach turned. He couldn’t handle that right now. He’d take care of it some other time. 

He climbed out of his window onto the fire escape. He sat down against the wall, pressing his face into his knees. Tears dripped into his knees. A scream built in the back of his throat. He didn’t stifle it this time. A howling wail burst from him, tore at his inside, rubbed his voicebox raw as he released his agonies into the empty air, echoing between the sides of the taller buildings that around him on his either side. The sound of the life that filled the city quickly swallowed the screams of the boy who killed himself to save it.

Percy screamed until his throat ached.

He finally stopped as his voice was choked out by sobs and he realized, only then, how much his throat hurt. It was dry and achy in a way it hadn’t been in a very long time. He swallowed painfully. He started when he heard something out of the blue, another cry. His heart sank.  _ Estelle. Of course. She’s not a sound sleeper at all. Of course I woke her. _

He stumbled back into the apartment, dodging the mess he left on the floor. He couldn’t make himself stop crying. Tears ran cool down his cheeks. He slipped into his mother and Paul’s room on tippy toes, hardly daring to breathe despite the breathless, needy tugging in his chest. He picked up the weeping baby girl from her crib, wrapping her in her blanket. Her blanket was a deep green.  _ Blue is our color,  _ his mother had said when they’d picked it out,  _ and I don’t like pink--too stereotypical. I would go with red, but they don’t have any. Green is good, I think, don’t you?  _ Percy, of course, had agreed.

She settled almost immediately as Percy cradled her against him. He could feel the love and trust radiating off her tiny body. Another flood of tears pressed at the floodgates of his eyes, stinging as its warmth filled the space behind his lids. He hotfooted it out of there before he could start audibly crying again.

He wound up back out on the fire escape, holding a small, helpless life in his arms, tears pouring into the tiny bundle as she whimpered softly, not really crying, just reacting to her brother’s tears raining down on her tiny face. He was trembling, his hands shaking badly as he clutched her, praying beyond prayer that his shaking body wouldn’t fail and drop her. If he hurt her, or gods forbid, killed her by accident, he’d never be able to forgive himself. He had a sudden thought that, if he killed her, that might be the straw that broke the camel’s back. Riptide suddenly felt just that little bit heavier in his pocket. 

It always did whenever he was considering obliterating himself.

It was another few moments before a deep voice softly called his name. “Percy.”

Percy’s breath hitched. He held Estelle a little tighter before looking up, right into a pair of green eyes, identical to his own. “... Dad,” he croaked.

Poseidon sat down in front of him on the fire escape. He scanned Percy carefully, his eyes settling on Estelle. He pointed. “Is it yours?”

Percy almost laughed. “No, no, she’s not mine.”

Poseidon cocked his head. “... Then whose is it?” He studied her a little closer before a vague look of sadness came over his face. “... Oh. Oh, of course. With that man she was with when I saw her last. Of course.” He cleared his throat.

“... It was necessary,” Percy whispered. “You’re married and immortal. She’s mortal. It wouldn’t have lasted even if Paul hadn’t come into the picture.”

Poseidon nodded. “I’m aware,” he said simply. “No, I was not… I’m not heartbroken anymore. My heartbreak faded long ago. It was just… I did not expect to have it shoved back in my face. That is all. Put the babe back where it sleeps.”

Percy bit his lip. He wanted to beg Poseidon to let her stay, to let him hold her, to feel her warm little body against his, but he couldn’t force the words. He stood up and stumbled into the apartment, back into his mother’s room. He paused. The vague city light made Sally look nearly angelic, shining in her hair, casting her face in softness. He swallowed back the urge to crawl into the bed and bury his face in her chest and crossed the room, putting Estelle in her crib. 

He returned to the fire escape. To his shock, Poseidon was still there. Percy tentatively sat next to him, swallowing slightly, his eyes stinging. 

“Son,” Poseidon whispered. 

“Why are you here?” Percy forced. “What quest do you have for me?”

Percy flinched as he felt a soft touch on his back. “I have no quest for you,” Poseidon murmured. “Percy, I’m here because Zeus heard you hollering from Olympus. He told me to come and settle you.”

“So you’re here because why? I interrupted Zeus’s beauty sleep?”

Poseidon sighed. “Well, that and… have you… Perseus, have you… hmm.” He sighed. “Apologies, son. I’m not always the best with words.” He gently traced his hand over Percy’s back, solid and warm. “Well… have you heard yourself cry?”

“... I’m sorry,” Percy sighed. “I know it sounds gross, I just…” He sniffled. “I couldn’t help it.”

“You have bad dreams,” Poseidon said, matter-of-factly. “I have watched them progress. But you do not usually weep this loudly. Truly, your cries were heartrending.” He took a breath. “That is why I’m here. Because… your sobs could put empathy in the coldest heart, my son.”

_ No fucking way.  _ “... So… what? You’re here to… comfort me?”

“I was worried you were dying,” Poseidon said, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. “Those cries… they were that of a dying man.”

Percy swallowed. “Well, I’m not. So if you want to… to go back to your domain, or back to Olympus, I… I won’t complain.”

Poseidon studied him. Percy’s head was bowed. A slight shakiness consumed his whole being, manifesting in his shoulders, his hands, his lip. His hands were clasped in his lap. His whole aura was down, sad, empty. He was sniffling and hiccuping slightly. Poseidon took a breath. He fiddled with his hands slightly, not quite knowing what to do, before settling on a solution and holding out his arms. “May I…”

Percy looked up. A look of pure confusion flashed across his face before he fell, slowly, into Poseidon’s shoulder, burying his face in the stability and warmth. Poseidon reached gently around him, cupping his head in one hand and pressing the other into the small of his back. He realized suddenly that this was only the second time that Poseidon had held him. It warmed him, he melted into the touch, Poseidon holding him up in warm, kind arms. His mouth lolled open, slow gasping whines trickled from his lips. He had the thought that maybe he shouldn’t be practically drooling into Poseidon’s shirt, but it was fleeting. His mind was simply too hazy to properly form thoughts.

His limbs were heavy. It took all of his energy to ball his fists in Poseidon’s shirt, cling on, as if begging Poseidon to stay, to make up for all the times he cried because someone had called him a bastard, all the times someone had said  _ oh, if I had a son like you, I’d leave too,  _ all the times he’d wished for his father to come home and steal him and his mother away from Gabe, all the times he’d begged for someone, anyone, to help him out, to save him, to help him, to do something, anything. He knew he didn’t deserve this, this gentleness, not for a bastard son, not for someone who’d let so many die, not someone who’d hurt so many, not  _ him.  _ He was undeserving. Simple as that.

“... I’m sorry,” Percy whispered. “You… you  _ really  _ didn’t need to do this.”

Poseidon sighed. “Nonsense. I do what I want. The sea does not like to be controlled, not even by his son. Now, take the comfort. You may be denying you need it, but I can tell you do. I can feel the emotion radiating from you, and it’s all pain. I know the pain is so strong it makes you vomit. I have smelled it on your breath. Rest. Please. If you cannot do it for me, do it for your mother. You know she would hate it if she were to see you now.”

Percy sniffled. Another round of exhausted tears trickled down his cheeks. He’d made his mother suffer way, way too much. Between the demigod scent and the delinquency and the expulsions and the quests and everything else, he was unworthy of her too. 

Poseidon patted Percy’s back. “Hey. Don’t worry. I took care of it. The mortals don’t even  _ remember  _ that creature. I have seen to it that he is erased from the memories of all that matter. Sally’s missing person’s report? Erased.”

Percy tensed. “... I… didn’t even think of that. Mom just said… she just said she’d handled it.”

“Well, no sense in not being extra cautious,” Poseidon winked. “Wouldn’t want the mortal police getting involved in this one. Look, I trust Sally. I do. She is a very clever woman. But… she doesn’t have my powers. And it makes me feel better when I can help her, even the tiniest bit.” Poseidon gave a small, huffy laugh. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

Percy took a deep breath. “... I… I won’t.”

Poseidon patted his back. “Good boy. Now,  _ please,  _ rest. You’re very tired. I can feel it. You are safe now. No creature, mortal, monster or what have you, would attack a sea god on an island. You have earned this night of sleep.”

Percy swallowed. He let his eyes fall closed once more. Poseidon shifted him so he was cradling him like one would a child, despite his lanky frame. He rocked him gently. Percy’s racing thoughts quieted, his spinning mind fell into a soft hush. He tried to think of happy things, of the last night he and Annabeth had spent together, holding each other, his nose buried in her hair, his sinuses glowing with her scent of lemons. Gods, he loved her hair so much. It was by far his favorite thing about her. Save her thighs. He could spend all day staring at those.

Picturing her was soothing. He fell into a gentle sleep before he could even realize what was happening.

Poseidon heard Percy’s breath become soft. He looked down. Percy’s eyes were closed. His face was relaxed. His lips were parted slightly, and they moved in an almost trancelike manner. Poseidon gave a small smile. Amphitrite had always accused him of talking in his sleep. He supposed it ran in the family.

He carefully stood up, pulling Percy against his chest. He snuck into the apartment through the window. He realized immediately that he was in Percy’s room. Blue and messier than a third-world landfill. He saw the puddle of Percy’s vomit on the floor and wrinkled his nose. He waved his hand and it cleaned itself.  _ Oh, Fates, my poor son.  _

He lay Percy down, gently, in his bed, pulling the blankets around his body. He watched as Percy curled up in the fetal position, taking one of his pillows in his arms and holding it tight, nuzzling his face into its comforting squishiness. Poseidon wondered what he thought of when he held that pillow. Probably that Athena girl. Either way, he looked comfortable and soft in a way that Poseidon hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing in a very long time.

He couldn’t leave just yet.

He needed one more moment. One more moment with his precious son. One more moment with the boy he loved deeply, despite all the laws that kept them separate, all the  _ don’t interfere  _ and  _ don’t get attached, they always die  _ and  _ don’t let them get big heads, if they know they’re demigods too young, they’ll become terrible for it.  _ He knelt by Percy’s bedside--it was a very low bed, he noticed, only a mattress on the floor, hardly fit for the sea’s littlest prince--and stroked his overlong shaggy hair from his cheek. He gently traced his fingers over Percy’s forehead when he saw it furrow ever-so-slightly in stress. He felt a sudden rush of anger. Who had done this? Who had hurt his precious boy? Who had made it so this beautiful child couldn’t even have a peaceful night’s sleep? Who had abused this warmhearted man’s mind to the point that he had no rest, even in his dreams?

Who had injured his favorite son?

He leaned in and kissed his forehead. Percy’s hair was soft against his nose. It smelled nice, sweet in the way mortals’ hair tended to smell, but Poseidon couldn’t help but smell the sea breeze underneath. He rubbed a thumb over Percy’s cheek, feeling the tension, the stress melt out of the young muscles. 

It was a few moments before he pulled away.

“... Goodnight, my beautiful son,” Poseidon whispered.

Percy made a soft cooing noise. Something warmed in Poseidon’s ribcage. He couldn’t help but smile. Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance.  _ Sod off,  _ Poseidon thought angrily.  _ I literally did exactly what you told me to do.  _ He took a deep breath, turning away. “... I love you,” he murmured, finally. “Your mother, too, still. And I’m glad she’s happy.”

Percy didn’t reply, of course, being too deep in dreams to hear him, but Poseidon had to say it. He closed his eyes and vanished in a whirl of sea air before he could draw any more of Zeus’s ire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the inspiration for this from https://archiveofourown.org/works/16827904/chapters/43289717. This is a series of mostly Percy & Poseidon father-son whump & soft content. If you enjoyed this drabble, you might like these drabbles as well.
> 
> In the same vein, I'm gonna plug this. https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786043. Percy dies in a fight against an unspecified offender. Poseidon thinks on it. "I can count on my hand the number of times I have held you, my son. Too few, too short, yet I cherish each one." 
> 
> So my mom's dog got out and got his ass hit by a car. He's totally fine, miraculously, slightly battered and bruised but otherwise okay. Scared the hell out of all of us. I spent like two hours mentally preparing to have to spend the next month or so holding my mom together like I did after our old cat died. It's her dog and they're pretty attached.
> 
> Honestly, I'm terrible with emotions IRL. I can write about it, but I can't deal with my own, and I've just barely reached a point where I can deal with that of others. 
> 
> I'm sorry. I know you guys aren't here for my fucking diary entries. My only reason for doing this is because I kind of have to. I don't have a diary. It's 3 AM and my brother and father are asleep. My mom and I can't talk about anything serious--our communication skills are terrible in the best of times, so every time we speak about serious topics, it's a roll of the dice as to whether or not we'll wind up yelling at each other. Sometimes it goes really well, and sometimes it flops. 
> 
> Gods. I say I'll stop and I just keep going. I'm really sorry.


	147. Chrisse- Tired Son, Burning Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After everything that happened with Kronos, the Labyrinth, and Manhattan, Chris owes his mother a visit. Unfortunately, trying to go home proves a bit more emotionally taxing than he anticipated.  
> Fortunately, Clarisse is there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for PTSD, mentions of torture, mentions of insanity, Chris's mom is a religious Christian who bashes Hermes extensively, vague mentions of child abuse (it's like one paragraph and it's not detailed), an equally vague reference to suicide. Also, some (possibly misused) Spanish terms. I'm neither Hispanic nor do I speak Spanish, so I'm apologizing in advance if some terms are misused or if some situations seem unrealistic.

Chris couldn’t breathe.

His chest felt like someone had wrapped a belt around it. He looked down the stairs into his mother’s basement apartment and all he saw was the Labyrinth. Raw terror clawed in the meat of his chest. He was freezing, trembling, but his skin was burning. His legs were locked in place, all of his muscles were beyond tense. It ached, throbbed, but he couldn’t move an inch. 

Clarisse walked ahead of him, leading him by the hand. She looked back when she felt Chris stop walking. “You good?”

Chris opened his mouth. No sound came out. 

Clarisse moved up, taking him by the shoulders. “Hey. Look at me.”

Chris heaved a wheezing breath. He closed his eyes. His chest spasmed weakly.

“Chris, you’re hyperventilating. You need to calm down.” She gently put her arms around his waist, pulling him close, rubbing circles on his back. “Here. Match my breathing. You can feel my breathing, right?”

Chris couldn’t move enough to cuddle up to her. His mind raced.  _ I could ruin you,  _ Kronos boomed in his head.  _ I could tie you up, brutalize you, turn you into a shell of a human being. Physically, mentally, emotionally, I could turn you into something unrecognizable to what you once were. It would be so easy for me, little thief. You are a failure. I have no use for you. Why shouldn’t I destroy your every final ounce?  _

_ What would the problem be for me? _

Chris didn’t realize he’d started sobbing until Clarisse whispered “Hey, hey, don’t cry. He’s gone now. The Labyrinth has been destroyed. He can’t hurt you anymore.” She pulled away, pressing kisses over his cheeks and lips. “You’re okay.”

Chris took a shaky breath. “... All those stairs… I…”

“The stairs are bad for you?”

He nodded.

She moved closer again, holding him close, rubbing his back. “That’s just your mom’s apartment. I swear on the Styx, that’s not the Labyrinth. There’s nothing bad down there, Chris.”

“... Scared,” he whispered. “... Really scared.”

She kissed his neck. “Here. We’ll go together. I’m tough. I’ll protect you. How does that sound?” Clarisse pulled a dagger from her belt, showing its blade to him as she pulled away. “Do you think you can walk down those stairs if I do it with you?”

He touched her knuckles, taking a deep breath. He looked into her dark eyes, studying her scarred face. He took her free hand. “... I can try.”

She kissed him deeply, delving her tongue into his mouth, easily breaching his defenses like she always did, smashing through his walls like a wrecking ball. He’d never been able to keep anything from her. She broke him down like nothing he’d ever seen before.

She pulled away. “Good boy.” She held his hand, moving down one step. “Here. Let’s take this one step at a time.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath. He took the first step with his eyes scrunched shut, squeezing Clarisse’s hand like a lifeline. Clarisse squeezed back, her hands rough against his, her grip firm. They took a few more steps. “Good job,” she murmured. “You’re doing so well. Just keep holding my hand.”

He opened his eyes slightly. They were about halfway down. There was a shut door at the bottom. The door to his mother’s apartment. The door his mom was behind. His lip trembled. It had been two years. 

Two years since they’d seen each other. Two years since he’d hugged her. Two years since he’d heard his mother call him her little traveler. Two years since he’d tasted her cooking. Two years since he’d been a normal teenage boy.

“You’re crying again,” Clarisse murmured, brushing the tears from his eyes with the back of her dagger-wielding hand. “Why?”

“... It’s been two years.” Chris’s voice was rough.

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t want you back,” Clarisse assured. “I mean, look. She stuck by you when she learned you were a demigod, and she was Catholic as fuck. I don’t think she’s gonna suddenly ditch you. Besides, doesn’t she know, like, everything?”

“She does,” Chris nodded. “Chiron called her.”

“Then you’re fine. Don’t cry,” Clarisse assured, leading him down a few more steps. 

Chris took a deep breath. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good.” She gave his cheek a light kiss. “We’re almost there. Just keep holding my hand.”

Chris nodded mutely. They descended the last few stairs. Clarisse sheathed her dagger and knocked on the door. 

Chris’s mom, Marta, opened the door. Chris nearly sobbed. Her face was just as he remembered, round and soft, her full lips slathered in a fuschia lipstick. Her jet-black hair was pulled into a loose braid, falling over her shoulder. Her full figure was covered by a long red dress. 

Neither of them said anything for a very long time.

Finally, a small smile curved on her lips. “... Mijo.”

“Mama,” he managed, swallowing hard.

She scanned him up and down. “... You’ve gotten so tall,” she murmured, her voice cracking slightly. Tears rimmed her eyes. “And… you’ve lost weight.”

“... I did?”

“Your bones are sticking out of your shirt,” she sighed. “Do they feed you at that camp?”

Chris’s lip trembled. He had a sudden flashback to Kronos’s camp, the punishments for the smallest slights, the forced starvation, the beatings. He remembered how hollow he would feel after twenty-four hours or so of no food, cored like an apple.

“... At Camp Half-Blood, yes,” he whispered.

“So… not so much at the traitor camp, then?” She leaned on the doorframe.

He stared at the ground. He gave his head a tiny shake. 

The next thing he felt were her arms around him. He hugged back, clinging hard and desperate, sobs breaking from his lips. His heart filled with a wet ache, he was broken, he couldn’t even walk down a set of stairs. He remembered the Labyrinth, that feeling of running endlessly in circles. No way out. No escape. Monsters and fear at every turn. He’d broken, then, after only a few days, a haze had swallowed his mind. It was like a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. He’d been convinced Mary was there, even though she wasn’t, even though Kronos had stolen her away, even though she had been punished. He didn’t want to know what had happened to her. He’d heard whispers of a girl meeting her description being beaten and starved so badly her heart had given out. He didn’t have the emotional strength to investigate. 

It was all just too painful. 

“Oh, mijo,” Marta sighed. “Why didn’t you just obey me when I said your father’s side was trouble? It was bad enough when you had to go to that camp. Why did you run off with that brother of yours?” 

“... I’m… I’m sorry, Mama, I didn’t know it would get so bad. I thought… it was good at first, but… I’m so so sorry.”

“Don’t blame him,” Clarisse cut in. “It really wasn’t his fault.”

“I wasn’t blaming him,” Marta cut in. “I was blaming those awful thieves that comprise his father’s side. My little traveler would never do something if he thought it would bring about the end of the world.”

“... They’re not all terrible people,” Chris defended, sniffling. 

Marta took a deep breath. “I suppose every family has a couple of outsiders.” She kissed his cheek, leaving a pink print on the skin. “I am so glad you are among them.” She escorted him inside, gently patting the tears off his cheek with a tissue. “Here, sit down.”

Chris settled on their couch. Tears continued to stream down his cheeks. Clarisse sat next to him, pulling him close. He buried his face in her shoulder. “... I’m so sorry,” he sobbed. “It’s… it’s all my fault.  _ I  _ defected. No one else. No one but me.”

“Don’t be an idiot, mijo,” Marta dismissed. “You were tricked. I do not blame you for being misled.” She shook her head, sitting on his other side. “Yes, you made the bad decision, but it was not entirely your fault.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whimpered.

“Don’t worry about it.” She wrapped her arms around him, leaning her head against his side. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He swallowed, gripping Clarisse’s hand. “... I’m not okay,” he whispered. “I couldn’t even make it down the stairs on my own. Clarisse had to escort me.”

“Because of the tunnels?”

Chris swallowed. “... The Labyrinth, yeah.”

Marta laughed. “Well, I can assure you, no pagan tunnels will appear down here. This is a Christian apartment. I have insured it quite heavily against pagan forces.” 

“Does that mean I have to leave?” Clarisse asked. 

“Don’t you dare,” Marta shot back. “This place is the only place where I can make sure you aren’t getting hurt. Now, Chris, are you hungry? You must be hungry, you’re so skinny. Here, let me see what I have in the fridge.” She released him, rising off the couch.

Chris’s stomach cramped. “... No, Mama, I’m not hungry.” 

Marta looked over her shoulder, her eyes full of pain. “... My poor son, they really  _ did  _ do something terrible to your mind.” She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his hairline. “What do you need? What would make it better?”

Chris looked up from where his head was nested against Clarisse. “... Hold me?”

Marta sat down, pulling him against her. He lay his head against her chest, settling his legs into Clarisse’s lap. Marta snuggled him against her, combing her fingers through his shaggy hair, bracing him with her other arm. Her arms were soft, her touch kind. His mind drifted to better times, to his mother holding him when he would feel sad. He remembered a time in his life when his biggest sadness was that he didn’t have a father like the other kids. The change nearly made him laugh.  _ Be careful what you wish for, I suppose.  _

A warm haziness overtook him as he lay there. He tensed slightly when he realized how sluggish his thoughts were.

“You’re tense,” Clarisse cut in. “Remember my advice.”

“... Right,” Chris managed. He focused on the mindless ruffle of Marta’s fingers through his hair, the soft tug against his scalp.  _ This is real,  _ he thought.  _ You’re still in reality. You’re not fading. You’re okay. _

“... Good boy,” Clarisse soothed, somewhere in the background. She gently rubbed up and down his leg, trying to give him something concrete to focus on. His muscles were tense beneath her touch, still, too hard to sink her fingers into. She traced her fingers over the shape of his calves, his knees, his thighs, trying to find the specific pressure points that would force him into relaxation. She looked up. He wasn’t crying anymore. He’d sunk into Marta’s arms, burying his face in her chest.

“Do you know why he’s tense?” Marta asked. 

“This happens whenever he gets very relaxed very suddenly. He told me it’s because his mind gets hazy and it scares him.”

Marta didn’t reply, only buried her face in his hair, pressing soft kisses over his scalp. “... My poor son,” she finally whispered. She took a deep breath. “Fearing himself…” She swallowed.

Clarisse shook her head. “It’s not uncommon for demigods. I wish it were, but it isn’t. Many demigods find themselves afraid of themselves.”

Marta blinked. “That scoundrel of a man. That little bastard of a… no, he doesn’t get to be called a  _ deity _ . If he had been honest…” She swallowed hard. “If he had been honest, Chris could have had a better father. He could have had a normal life. I could have found his soul a better place to inhabit. Oh, mijo, my sweet son!” She pulled his head up, smothering his cheeks and forehead in kisses. He grunted as Marta’s lipstick coated his face. “He would have had no reason to fear.”

Clarisse rubbed the bottom of Chris’s foot, needing connection, needing touch. Chris’s toes curled. “... It was Kronos’s fault. No one else’s. Not Chris’s, not yours, not Hermes’s.”  _ Not mine. Oh, my poor Silena!  _

Marta huffed. “I have no knowledge of your war save that storm from about a month ago. I’m talking about saving my son.”

Clarisse gently pinched Chris’s toe. “Chris is… I can save him.” She swallowed hard. “I’ve always made it okay in the past. Marta, do you trust me?”

Marta studied her. She suddenly looked immensely tired. “I don’t have a choice, mija.”

Clarisse grinned. “Great. I promise you, I will not fail.”

Marta didn’t look entirely convinced. “... I dearly hope you won’t.”

Clarisse looked up at Chris’s face. His eyes were closed. He looked peaceful. “Marta, I love him as much as you do. If I fail, and something terrible happens to him, I will be as heartbroken as you. I believe I can save him. I believe I can help him. Or at bare minimum, I can find someone to assist.”

Marta looked at Clarisse, almost lovingly. “I believe you. I know you’ll try for him. You’ve always been kinder than you cared to admit. It’s just… I’m his mother. I cannot help but worry for him. Especially after… you know.”

“After he defected?”

“No, after your grandfather.”

Clarisse chewed her lip. “... Chris talks about what bothers him. From what I’ve heard, my grandfather never did. I don’t think… I don’t think Chris will self-destruct. He and I have talked a lot about his mental health, in fact. He’s… he’s getting better. I think I can help manage it.”

Marta nodded. “Yeah. I did notice that you were telling him to ‘remember what I told you’ or something.”

“Yeah. When he gets hazy, it helps him to be able to focus on something concrete. That’s why I was rubbing his leg. To give him something to concentrate on.”

Marta laughed. “Well, at least my beloved child will improve his focus.”

Clarisse managed a wan smile. “Yeah. Anyway, that helps him if he’s panicking or if he feels like he’s fading. For nightmares, he responds well to physical comfort, I’ve noticed--if you can’t or don’t want to cuddle him, send him to me, I’ll do it. Also, if he’s really freaking out, try to lead him outside if you can. Fresh air gets his head right real quick. Sunlight is best, but it’s okay if that’s not possible. Anyway, that’s basically the instructions. It may evolve if his issues change, but that’s how I’ve been managing him for now.”

Marta looked impressed. A small smile possessed her lips. “You’ve got a system. That’s excellent. That… that helps.”

Clarisse smiled. “See? I can be trustworthy! I can be kind! It’s just that I’m not usually.”

Marta huffed. “Treat people the way you want to be treated.”

“I treat people the way they deserve to be treated. Or, at bare minimum, I treat them the way I’ve always been treated. Anyway, I’m glad you trust me with your son’s mental health.”

“I can assure you, mija, you did not deserve half of the abuse you got. Anyway, yes, I trust you. I’m not sure if it’s from necessity or what, but it is what it is.” She nodded, kissing Chris’s head.

Clarisse smiled, rubbing Chris’s leg, finding his muscles pleasantly relaxed. “Hey, Chris, your mom trusts me! Isn’t that good?”

Chris didn’t respond.

Clarisse disentangled herself from Chris’s legs. She moved up, looking at his face. His eyes were closed. His expression was slack and peaceful. “Aww, he’s sleeping!” she cooed, touching his cheek.

“Chris?” Marta shook him gently. “Wake up, mijo.”

“No, no, don’t wake him,” Clarisse whispered. “I can carry him. I just need you to get his legs. Can you do that?”

Marta pursed her lips. “... I can try.”

“Good. Here, I can take him.” She leaned in, gently hauling him from Marta’s arms. She looped an arm around his buttocks, leaning him against her. Marta took his legs. They slowly carried him back into his small bedroom. Clarisse lay him carefully into his bed, pulling the sheets about his shoulders. “Good night, my boy.”

Marta kissed his cheek. “Sleep well, mijo.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The room was pitch dark, and Chris was alone.

Something was moving nearby. Or maybe above him. He couldn’t tell. Either way, he was  _ underground  _ and  _ trapped  _ and  _ buried _ and he couldn’t move or even  _ breathe.  _ His legs didn’t work, wouldn’t work, couldn’t work. The son of the god of travellers couldn’t force himself to move. He was shaking badly. The monsters were coming for him. They were in the inky darkness just inches from him, waiting for their chance to strike. He could almost feel their hot breath down his spine. Sweat was beading over his body. His heart raced. His stomach was twisting.

He spotted a crack of light, reaching up, he touched something cool and hard. Glass! A window! An escape! He fiddled with the latch, pushing open the window. He smelled cool night air and wiggled out, pushing up from his bed, crawling to freedom.

He was standing behind his and Clarisse’s shared house, right in front of her window.

Tears welled thick and hot in his eyes. He was such a failure. He was dumb, paranoid, crazy. He hadn’t even managed to sleep one night in his own bedroom. Why hadn’t he just curled up and let the monsters take him? It would have been preferable to this.

He wiped his eyes, taking a deep breath. He tapped on her window.  _ Please, please, my tough girl, please… I need you… please come… _

Clarisse’s face appeared in the window. Her nose was scrunched. Her eyes were half open. Her hair looked like a rat’s nest. She was wearing a tee shirt that stretched a little too tight on her large frame and sweatpants she’d cut at the knees.

She was gorgeous.

She pushed the window open. “Chris? Why are you outside?”

Chris swallowed. “... Can I come in?”

“... Sure?” Clarisse popped out the screen with two strong hands, sending it crashing to the ground. “Climb in.”

Chris jumped back to avoid being hit by the screen. He climbed into her bedroom, looking around. He’d been in her bedroom before, but he’d never ceased to be amazed at the sheer number of weapons she kept. Her spear was displayed above her bed. Hooks held somewhere in the order of five different swords. In the center of her room was her knifebox, displayed high on a small table. 

The glow of Celestial bronze was more reassuring than he cared to admit. 

“So… nightmares?” Clarisse asked, sitting down on her bed. 

“... Kind of,” he murmured. 

Clarisse patted the bed beside her. “Kind of?”

Chris sat next to her. “... I… I had a hazy spell. I kind of… I kind of forgot I was in my bedroom.” He blinked, tears welling in his eyes.

Clarisse looped her arms around him, pulling him close, holding him tight against her muscular body. “You’re here now. Not there. You’re here and you’re with me. Put your hands on my bicep.”

Chris slowly raised his hands, clutching her arm, feeling how strong and solid it was beneath his fingers. His hands were shaking.

She kissed his neck. “I’m real. Whatever you were seeing in your haze, it isn’t real. Feel my body, hear my voice, see my face and know that I am  _ real.  _ I may not be the best. I may not be what you deserve. But I am here, and I am real, and  _ I. Will. Protect. You.  _ Even if it costs me my life. I swear on the Styx, I will protect you.”

A wailing sob broke from Chris’s throat, harsh and painful, so much worse than when he’d cried on his mom earlier. He buried his face in her shoulder. Everything hurt, his head, his throat, his  _ heart.  _ He was so  _ tired,  _ the moment he had had a moment to rest he’d broken into shards. Clarisse’s softness was almost more agonizing than her rage. Her strong hands were painful as they examined his wounds, her fingers pulled unforgivingly at the oozing gash on his heart. He couldn’t believe anything could hurt this much, especially not something so soft, so gentle.

Clarisse rubbed his back. “Oh, Chris.” 

She didn’t say any more. There was nothing she could say. Asking him not to cry wouldn’t do anything. She’d assured him of her love, her protection, and that he was okay and she was real. She’d spoken all the words she could think of, and she wasn’t good enough with words to think of any more. So she only held him. Pressed slow kisses over his neck. Ran rough, calloused hands over his back, his neck. Rubbed his tense, shaking shoulders with strong fingers. Touched his hands from where they lay on her bicep, murmuring  _ I’m real, I’m real, I’ll keep you safe.  _

And slowly, he relaxed. Melted against her shoulder. Let his tense, shaking grip relax. When his hands slipped away, he could see that his fingernails had left little red marks on her skin. He lifted his head from her chest--so soft, now, when she wasn’t wearing armor--and met her eyes, looking reddish in the thin light of the Celestial bronze. “... Thanks,” Chris whispered.

She managed a grin. Her eyes looked exhausted. The rage that normally filled them was gone, replaced by tiredness and… warmth? The softness looked almost foreign on Clarisse, on the burning daughter of war. “No problem, Chris. Are you okay to go home now?”

Chris swallowed. Panic flashed in his chest at the thought of his dark, lonely room. “I… um… I…”

“You don’t have to go. I’ll explain it to your mom if you need. I’m sure she’ll understand. I think she gets the fact that I’m your protector now.”

Chris swallowed. He closed his eyes. “... Thanks.”

Clarisse touched under his chin, guiding him into a kiss, her chapped lips unusually gentle over his. She tasted tangy, coppery, like wine and blood. The feeling of her tongue gliding over his was the most grounding thing he’d ever felt. He sighed softly into the kiss, his fear and worry dissolving with every breath. 

By the time she pulled away, his face was warm, and his whole body felt like it had been wrapped in silk and kisses. 

“Don’t worry,” she mumbled, her voice gruff yet soft. “I’ll take care of everything, okay? You just rest.”

Chris nodded. He snuggled a little closer against her. “... Stay with me?”

“Wasn’t gonna leave,” Clarisse replied. “Not now. Not like this.” 

Chris shifted, sitting up cross-legged in front of her. Her strong form sagged against the pillows. Her hair hung in her face. The scars on her chin and the bridge of her nose shone a pale yellow in the honey-colored light of the bronze. Chris wanted to crawl on top of her, sink into her crimson depths, let her howling gales tear him until he was nothing. “... Thanks,” he whispered, reaching out, taking her hands. “Seriously. It means a lot.”

Clarisse scanned him. His dark eyes were wet, soft and vulnerable. His warm brown cheeks bore tear marks. His shoulders were slumped like someone had forced a crushing weight on them. “No problem. Now lie down. You look exhausted.”

Chris blushed. “... So we’re just gonna share a bed?”

Clarisse shrugged. “Sure. I mean, who gives a shit? It’s for the best. I’ll feel it if you start going hazy again.”

Chris blushed deeper. “... Thank you,” he murmured, shifting so his back was pressed up against the wall beside the bed, curling his knees to his stomach and his arms over his chest. 

Clarisse stroked his cheek with one large, rough thumb. Her eyes were fond as she looked at him. She pulled the blankets up around him, tucking him in with love before standing up and stretching. 

“Where are you going?” Chris croaked.

“Don’t know. I’m…” Clarisse gave a dry chuckle. “I know I should stay with you. But I can’t sleep right now. My mind’s racing too hard. I need… I need to fight something.” She stretched her toned arms above her head before dropping into push-up position, doing ten reps with ease. 

“Don’t say that. You’ll summon a monster,” Chris sighed.

Clarisse snorted. “You’re right.” She slammed out another ten push-ups.

“Glad you can admit it.” Chris took a moment to watch her muscles move and flex beneath her scarred skin. It was soothing to watch her like this, focused, in her element. Chris had a sudden sense of safety, despite Clarisse’s near-incredible ability to attract trouble. He knew she’d protect him. If she survived, he would. It was just a guarantee.

Clarisse looked up. She scowled, but there was no venom in it. “Why are you still talking to me? Sleep!”

Chris snorted. He closed his eyes and drifted off to the sound of Clarisse’s huffy breaths as she did endless push-ups, trying to soothe her racing thoughts to the point where she’d be allowed to rest in her own right.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Clarisse did not sleep that night.

  
  
  
  


She knocked on Marta’s door at sunrise.

Marta opened it, looking less glamorous than she had the previous day. Her hair was in a messy ponytail. A bathrobe covered her voluptuous form. Her eyes widened. “Oh, Clarisse! Thank the Lord! Chris is…”

“... not in his bed, I know,” Clarisse cut in. “He’s in mine. He had a… he had a spell. He thought he was in trouble. He knocked on my bedroom window at midnight last night. I let him in. He didn’t want to go back to his own room, so I let him stay in mine.”

Marta sighed. She shook her head. “... Who would make it so that a good boy can’t even get a night’s rest in his own bed?”

“A jackass,” Clarisse replied instantly. “But he’s resting peacefully now. I think that’ll do him good.”

Marta nodded. She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. “... I hope you know.”

“Know what?”

“How hard it is. To let go of my son. I have  _ one  _ child. And now…” She took a deep breath. “... I can’t be the one to save him.”

Clarisse put a firm hand on her shoulder. “I swear, I’ll save him. I promise. I won’t let him go crazy. I’ll make sure he doesn’t fade away. I’ll… look, I don’t even know where he’ll sleep tonight. But I know I’ll make it okay.” She closed her eyes, thinking of soft blue eyes, of pink ribbons and warm laughter and how badly she’d failed. “I won’t fail either of you.”

Marta pulled her into a hug. “Oh, mija, my little babe.”

Clarisse rested her chin on top of Marta’s head. Once again, Clarisse was totally lost for words. She wasn’t good with emotions normally, and parental love was especially difficult for her to understand. Neither of her parents had been particularly tender to her. It had taken her years to understand that yes, Ares cared for her in his own way, despite the violence, despite the verbal abuse. He was trying to better her, but that didn’t make it any easier to take. And her mother? No chance. Her mother had made her hatred for her only daughter evident since day one. 

So she didn’t really know what to do when Marta pulled away, her eyes wet, her cheeks spotted with tiny bits of inadequately removed mascara, and said, “He is my only child. I will raise hell if you don’t find a way to help him. That is a promise. I swear on my Bible.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Clarisse managed. “I swear on the Styx, I’ll do my best to help him.”

Marta eyed her, not distrustfully, just carefully. “Whichever belief’s punishment makes you want to do your best by him.”

“Of course,” Clarisse nodded. 

“Good. Will you promise to bring him back here, once he’s awake and a bit calmer? I want to see him. I want to… I know he can’t tell me everything, but I’d still like to hear some more of the story than what I heard from your activities director. Maybe if I know more, I can help more.”

Clarisse cracked a smile. “Of course. Yeah, I can bring him. I think it would be great if you could help him a little more.”

Marta smiled warmly. She stood on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss against Clarisse’s scarred chin. “Thank you, thank you, mija, beautiful soul.”

Clarisse blushed. “No, no, really, it’s my… it’s my pleasure. Anyway, I have to… I should go back to Chris. He’s still sleeping. If he has a nightmare, I… I want to be there for him.”

“Of course,” Marta nodded. “No, you go. Thank you for stopping in to tell me. I was… you came at the exact right time, you know. I was seconds away from charging up to your place to find him.”

“Good thing I came when I did, then,” Clarisse sighed. 

“It is,” Marta agreed. “I will see you once Chris wakes up?”

Clarisse nodded, turning to leave. “Yeah. I’ll bring him down then.”


	148. Percabeth, pre-Solangelo-(Im)mature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth gets a call in the days following the battle with Gaia. It turns out there was someone who was concerned for her safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request fill for HeroofOlympus24. I don't mean to embarrass you by calling you out like this, but in light of past events, please deign to give me a few days between making requests, if you will. I've got something I have to write for school and I kind of have to take tomorrow tending to that. Again, I'm sorry for calling you out.
> 
> Warnings for complicated parent-child relationships, two characters watch a third sleep. Annabeth is the OG Solangelo shipper.

“Are you sure it’s _only_ because he’s overworked himself?” Annabeth smirked at a beet-red-faced Will. They were in the hallway outside of the infirmary. Annabeth had basically backed Will into a corner, grilling him relentlessly over Nico’s little infirmary stay.

“He’s… he’s iron deficient and… um… malnourished?” Will spluttered. “He isn’t healthy. I swear, this isn’t only because I’m gay for him, I…”

“So he admits it,” she laughed. 

“Everyone knows I’m gay by now,” Will protested weakly. “Look, it doesn’t matter if I have a crush on him, he still needs healing.”

“I never protested that, I just…” She was cut off by a jingling from her front pocket. She huffed, pulling her phone out. She started a little at the name on the screen. “Oh, fuck. I have to take this.”

Will cocked his head. “Who is it?”

Annabeth held up one finger, answering the phone. “Hello?”

Frederick Chase’s voice echoed over the line. “Beth?”

“Yeah? Why are you calling me?” She could see Will slip back into the infirmary as soon as her attention was elsewhere. _Brat,_ she thought lovingly.

“Well, I…” He was taken aback, she could tell. “... I heard you may have… I don’t know. I heard you may have been in some trouble. I don’t quite know. I was wondering if… if you needed me to come out and… and do something. Again, I don’t know.”

Annabeth’s eyes stung. “... Um. I... I’m okay now. There was an incident about a month or two ago, but it’s okay now. I promise. Thank you so much for offering.” She couldn’t talk about Tartarus just yet, or at least, didn’t think she could tell the whole story. Besides, all it would do was hurt him, and she was past the point where she wanted to do that. 

“No problem,” he replied. “You know how it is. Making up for lost time.”

“... Right,” she murmured. She wiped her eyes on her hand. “Anyway, I’m… I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”

“Thank the gods,” he sighed. “How is Percy, by the way? I feel like he’s another son to me at this point, with how you talk about him.”

“He’s… alive,” Annabeth sighed. She didn’t feel like mentioning that Jason had told her that he thought Percy was having suicidal thoughts. She was still trying to wrap her head around it in her own right. 

“Only alive?”

“Well, he’s… I think he’s a bit… he’s tired,” Annabeth sighed. “He hasn’t seen his mother in months. He’s been kidnapped and thrown on, like, two or three consecutive quests. He’ll be okay, but he’s a bit off right now.”

“You two are still together, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. We’re still together. The damn boy’s a part of me. I couldn’t give him up so easily,” she laughed. 

“Good. I think… whatever happened, whatever trouble you were in, whatever you’re not telling me--and yes, I know you’re hiding something--I think that having Percy by your side will be helpful. Same goes with Percy. I think you two will help each other.”

Annabeth took a deep breath, stifling the wet ache in her chest before deciding to change the subject. “... Of course. Right. Anyway, how are you? I never asked how you were doing.”

“I’m doing well,” Frederick said. “I have a… I got my hands on an old B2 bomber. One of the original 1987 models.”

“Is that what’s taking up your time nowadays?” Annabeth laughed.

“Basically,” he chuckled. “It’s a bit past the normal era of my collection, but it’s fascinating nonetheless. I won’t bore you with details, but it’s been an extensive restoration.”

She grinned. “Maybe some time later I can make some time to meet you somewhere and you can bore me with the details as much as you’d like.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied “I’d like that.”

“Glad to hear it,” she chuckled. 

A cry sounded in the background of the call, followed by a muffled thump. “Everything okay over there?” 

Frederick sighed. “Basically. Bobby broke an arm falling out of a tree. He’s not… he’s not doing very well with it, I’m afraid. Not like you when you’re injured.”

Annabeth laughed. “He’s, like, eight. Give him some time.”

“Nine, actually,” Frederick corrected. “Anyway, I think… I think I have to go. I’m really sorry. He needs painkillers, and I’m keeping those in my safe so… well, you know why, you’re smart.”

Annabeth tried not to feel rejected. “... Sure. Will you call me tomorrow?”

“Can do,” Frederick responded. “How does four PM sound?”

“Sounds great,” she sighed. “I’ll see you then.”

“Bye, ‘Beth. Thanks for putting my mind at ease. It means a lot, you hear?”

Annabeth swallowed. “... Right. Goodbye.” She hung up before he could say any more. For some reason, she felt a sudden urge to stab something. Nothing had changed. As soon as one of the boys needed something, it would be done. It didn’t matter if Annabeth wanted more time with him, if he was needed anywhere else, he’d ditch her and be there. She took a deep breath. _Bobby’s a kid. You’re not so immature as to deny a child pain relief just because you have daddy issues, right?_

She didn’t want to answer that to herself.

She entered the infirmary. Will was sitting next to a sleeping Nico, the latter’s raven head barely visible under a fluffy white comforter. The former was writing in a notebook, pencil scribbling over the page. “You keeping medical records, or are you just writing _I <3 Nico _in your journal over and over again?”  
“Eat my ass,” were the first words out of Will’s mouth. 

Annabeth huffed. She flopped in a chair next to him. “I have a boyfriend. Anyway, how’s he doing?”

“Nico? He’s asleep, which is good. I’ve given him iron and a good meal. Most of his wounds were superficial, so I predict a speedy recovery if his ass can only take a few days to actually rest.” Will studied Nico as if thinking of some way he could fuss over him further. 

Annabeth snorted humorlessly. “He’s a demigod. Don’t count on him _resting.”_

“I’ll tie him to the bed if I have to,” Will declared. “He’s gonna rest, and he’s gonna like it.”

Annabeth nodded. “Right.”

Will studied her. “... You seem down,” he declared. “What happened on that phone call?”

Annabeth looked at Will. His expression was gentle. “... Nothing,” she sighed. “Or nothing serious. Just… my father and I… we have an interesting relationship. It’s not always great. Some of it is just me being selfish, but…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Will soothed. “I’m sure it’s not your fault. Sometimes people just have issues with each other. I’m sure there’s no hatred on his end.”

“... Thanks,” she sighed. Will’s voice was gentle. She couldn’t help but relax into it a little. 

“No problem,” Will shrugged. 

Annabeth studied Will, then Nico, then Will again. “... I don’t mean to fuel your gay fire, but… is Nico cute while he sleeps, or is it just me?”

Will smiled. “It isn’t just you.” He knelt by Nico’s bed, reaching out tentatively and laying a hand on the comforter. 

Annabeth nodded. “Glad to hear it.” She gave a chuckle. “No, yeah, it would be pretty terrible if I were to fall for _Nico di Angelo_ of all people.”

“Yeah, it would be, considering I’ve already called dibs.”

“Wha… you can’t call _dibs_ on a _person,_ Will!”

Will stuck out his tongue. “Watch me.”

Annabeth shook her head. “I can’t watch this. I’m going to go find Percy.”

“Rather hypocritical of you to be running off to get some after harassing _me_ for being in love,” Will grumbled.

She stood up. “Shut up. And I’m not ‘running off to get some,’ I’m going off to be with my boyfriend of almost a year. It’s different,” she chided, turning and walking off. She didn’t wait for Will to reply to her. Percy was waiting. Or maybe he wasn’t waiting. Either way, he was somewhere in the camp, and that took precedence over everything. She turned on her phone once she was out of the infirmary. One text from her father. Opening the text, she read:

_Thank you for the phone call. I’m sorry it was cut short. Love you, baby girl. XOXO Dad._

Annabeth took a deep breath. She glided across the camp, lost in thought. Sure, she and her father had a decent relationship now, but there was so much old hurt. So many issues. It couldn’t be made perfect now. All the old betrayals--being the unwanted child, being passed up for her step-siblings, her stepmother in general--still stung as if they had happened yesterday. She wasn’t sure if she could ever really get over it in full.

She only stopped when she collided with a warm, sea-scented chest. Arms wrapped around her and she nested her face into a soft shoulder. “... Hey, Wise Girl.”

“... Percy,” she croaked. 

He held her a little tighter, patting her back. “How are you doing? You seem upset.”

“... It’s nothing, really,” she sighed. “Just… my father and I talked.”

“Did it go badly?”

“Not even. He just… he had to hang up suddenly because Bobby needed painkillers for a broken arm and I guess… I guess it just reminded me of old times. Before he cared about me.”

Percy kissed her forehead. “Hey. He cares for you. Just because he had to go suddenly doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. I'm pretty sure of that.”

Annabeth sighed, breathing in his scent, sweet sea air. “... Yeah,” she murmured, tension she didn’t know she held leaking out of her shoulders. Percy had that effect on her.

They held each other for a moment. When they finally pulled away, Percy was looking at her with an expression so soft that Annabeth couldn’t fully meet his eyes. She felt her face go warm. “... You want to go sparring?” she stammered, desperate to deflect the force of his love, which she was sure she would drown in if she let it overtake her.

Percy laughed. “Sure, Wise Girl.” He took her hand, his long, warm fingers curling in hers. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Annabeth would actually be the hardcore Solangelo shipper, not as much Percy. I mean, Percy would absolutely be supportive, but Annabeth would be going all in. I mean, look at how she reacted to Nico's coming out in BOO. She straight up smiled and high-fived him. She'd totally like that Nico found a boyfriend.


	149. Percabeth-Blue Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth has a nightmare. Percy helps. I know I write a lot of these, but this one features self-doubting Annabeth and mostly-asleep Percy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real warnings, I don't think. Just insecurity. And a very brief line alluding to inappropriate touching (but nothing happens).

Percy is mostly asleep when he hears the whimpers from beside him.

He rolls over, reaching out. Annabeth thrashes beside him, her body kicking the sheets into turmoil. Her cries would be inaudible to anyone besides Percy, who has years of experience in her, her cries, her nightmares. 

He puts his arms around her. Her body is firm under his grip. She heaves against his chest, he has to pour more strength than he’d like into holding on to her. He hates when he has to cling to her like this, what if she can’t breathe? what if her ribs break? After all, his arms are massively strong, and she’s smaller than him. What if he smothers her?

His fears are allayed when she cries out again, strong and healthy, and rolls over to press her face into his chest. She heaves once, twice, three times before collapsing into a round of quiet sobs. She pushes her arms around his body and squeezes, hard, her toned arms crushing against his ribs. He doesn’t care. He never did care. She could cause him every ounce of pain in the world and it wouldn’t matter to him. She could hit him, kick him, break his heart, kill him, and he would forgive her. The love he felt was warm and all-consuming, and now, feeling her cry against him, it feels like salt in a wound. He can’t do anything but hold her. 

“Percy,” she finally croaks.

He grunts an affirmative.

“I’m so sorry,” she whimpers, tilting her head, kissing feather-light over his chin, his neck, his shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Why?” His voice sounds dry and scratchy. 

She chokes out another sob. “Because. You… you always… always were able to… to protect me when I… I needed it… but… but… I…” She cries, screams, really, and Percy can’t do anything but kiss her forehead and hope it soothes her furrowed brow. It’s a few minutes before she can find her words. “... I could never protect you… not against Hera… not from… not from the bad place… not  _ in  _ the bad place… I’m so, so sorry, Percy, I love you so much… oh, gods, Percy, Percy… and then, in my dream, you… you died, and… and I couldn’t help you at all… you died in my arms and… and all I could do was hold you…” Her voice breaks violently and she buries herself further into his protective embrace.

Percy moves his hand to her hair, stroking it gently, inhaling her scent, sweet lemons. “What ‘bout M’nhattan?” 

“... That was  _ one time,”  _ Annabeth sniffles bitterly. “I haven’t done shit for you save that. Percy, I’m really not… I don’t deserve you at all.” More kisses trail over Percy’s neck, his chest, and Percy’s heart breaks. 

“Mm. Thought I di’n’t deserve you,” he grunts, moving slightly to kiss her properly. 

Annabeth sniffles. “... I love you so much, Percy, you… you’re the sweetest thing that… that ever happened to me…” She hiccuped. “Please, please, don’t go, I… I need you…”

Percy flinches, suddenly very awake. “Annabeth, I’m not… I’m not leaving. I’d never leave you. I love you.”

Annabeth only whimpers, pressing her fingers to the small of Percy’s back, stroking up and down, rubbing hard. “... I’m so sorry.”

Percy strokes her hair, feeling the silky ringlets trail over his fingertips. “It’s okay, Wise Girl. I’m not mad. Look, if I were scared of the bad place, then I would have obeyed you when you told me to let you go. I fell willingly. Gladly. I’d rather burn in hell than see you hurting in the same way.” He yawns. “Don’t feel guilty. You tried your best.”

She nuzzles his chest, giving a few more gasps and whimpers, gradually crying herself into exhaustion and finally, into sleep. He holds her until he knows she’s asleep, her breath soft and even once more. Only then does he release her. He pulls their shared comforter around her body, tucking her in warm and safe. He kisses her closed eyelids. She smiles, angelic and soft.

He knows he did the right thing for her. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt just a little bit. Her smile is holy and when she cries, it’s like blasphemy, almost evil, and he never wants to see it again. 

He wishes he could take it away. He really does. But a sword cannot become stitches just because the battle is done, and Percy hates that he can’t stitch her back together in a way that’s anything but amateurish. It aches at the marrow of his soul, he can feel it eat at him slowly. He’s reminded of an assignment they had in school--gods,  _ high school,  _ it’s so hard to believe it’s already been almost three years--where they had to write a love poem. Percy had slapped out some nonsense and turned it in without a word, the excuse being that he was terrible with words. Annabeth, however, had written about a blue knight on a black horse, about the sea coming up to save her, pull her into blue depths and take the pain away. Everyone had stared at him, he remembered, and at the time, he’d stuffed his head all the way into his hoodie like a turtle and hid. Annabeth hadn’t stopped laughing at him for the rest of the day. It hadn’t helped him not be embarrassed. 

It’s been years since then. It stuck in Percy’s mind.  _ Knight on a black horse. Save me. _

He’d do anything to fulfill that role for her now.

He takes a few deep breaths and kisses her again, over her cheek, her lips, her forehead, her nose, her neck. She coos and giggles, but she doesn’t wake, and he thanks the gods for that. She always teases him for his sappiness, even though he’s hardly a sap at all, just so in love it hurts. 

He curves himself around her body, throwing a leg over her broad, soft hip and an arm over her waist, his hand so close to her that, if he were a man of less chivalry, he could have reached up to cup her breast. Her hair is soft against his neck and chest and smells of lemons. He let his eyes close. Her slow, soft breaths ease his pain. She’s at peace, now. He’s done his job for now. He can sleep if she can. 

“I love you” are the last words he whispers before he succumbs to the urge to sleep.


	150. Non-shippy-The Doctor and his Charge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil and Will have a conversation in the infirmary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for inadvertently triggered phobias, vomiting, mentions of drug addictions, mentions of the shortfalls of modern medicine, very very slight dehumanization? It's not nearly as bad as some things out there, but it does bear mentioning. Also, if you're scared of needles/getting stitches, you might want to skip this one. Or don't. Desensitization is a valid therapy for a reason.

“... What do you feel when you do this?”

Will looked up from where he was bandaging some superficial wounds Cecil had received in a swordfight. He had dark circles under his eyes; circles that Cecil had been watching grow over the past few years. “In what regard?”

“... Emotionally, I guess. I mean… how do you look at wounds day after day after day?” Cecil shifted a little, uncomfortable. He was shirtless, almost totally vulnerable in the face of Will’s medical treatments.

Will studied a particularly nasty gash near Cecil’s elbow. “... I’m not exactly sure. I just… I slip into this sort of ‘doctor mode’ where I… I don’t see the body before me as… feeling, you know? It just looks like a dummy I’m repairing, not a human being who cries and laughs and feels things.”

“... So I’m not human to you right now?” Cecil whispered. 

“You are, but… it’s different,” Will sighed. “See, when I stitch these wounds, even if you start squealing in pain, I’m not going to feel a lot of empathy. Because… it’s like…”

“... It’s okay to cause pain if, in the end, you’re relieving it?”

Will nodded. He looked up, grinning. “Congrats, Cecil. You just got the most important fact of medicine that no one will ever take the time to teach you.”

Cecil thought back to a guy he’d known back when he and Will and Lou had been living in South Jupiter with Lou’s father. He’d been prescribed oxycodone for a spinal injury and wound up as a homeless junkie with a crippling heroin addiction. Cecil had always felt a deep sympathy for him. It had always seemed like the whole world was against that guy. “... No, I get it,” Cecil murmured. “Remember George?”

“Oh, do I ever,” Will snorted. 

“Yeah. Talk about someone medicine did badly.” Cecil shook his head. 

Will sighed. He didn’t respond. He pulled a syringe from his supplies tray and filled it with a fluid. “Close your eyes and take a deep breath. I’m gonna stick you with a local anesthetic so you don’t feel it too much when I do the stitches.”

Cecil met Will’s eyes. “Come on, man, I don’t need any anesthetic.”

“Yes you do. I’ve treated you before. Now, you’re gonna feel--”

“--a little pinch, I know, I know. Get on with it.” Cecil would never admit it, but he hated needles. The few times he’d actually been to a doctor as a child for mandatory vaccinations, he’d passed out on the exam table. 

But he wasn’t going to do that now. He clenched his jaw, folded his arms and looked in the other direction.

“Three… two… one,” Will muttered, half to himself.

Cecil felt a pinch. His head spun. Dark spots danced in his vision. He felt as if he had been suddenly thrown into deep water, without moorings, without anything to hold on to. He took a deep breath. 

“Whoa there,” Will murmured. 

Cecil blinked. Will was holding him by the shoulders. “Hey, man, you okay? You were swaying like you were gonna faint.”

Cecil took a deep breath. Nausea squished at his stomach. “... Yeah, man, I’m… I’ll be okay.”

Will chuckled. “All right. Don’t pass out on me. You concussing yourself won’t help anything.” He grabbed a spool of surgical thread and a needle. “Don’t look at this next bit if you couldn’t handle the syringe.”

Cecil nodded. He looked away, taking a deep breath.  _ What can I say to him that would distract me?  _ “... What do you… get from me? When you do this?”

“Well, your heart’s going at a million miles an hour. Your breath catches whenever I mention the word ‘syringe.’ I can see your clavicles pretty clearly, and the bones of your spine as well. I can feel the movement of your muscles and skin when you move. Your muscles twitch slightly every time I make a new stitch.”

Cecil’s head began to spin again. “... Stop,” he managed. “Don’t talk about… that.”

Will nodded. “I’ll stop, I’ll stop.” He paused for a moment. “... You’re scared of needles, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not,” Cecil mumbled. He turned back, studying Will’s face, the way his brow furrowed slightly with concentration. He wore a cloth mask with CHB stitched on the front, something about protection from disease, Cecil didn’t know, but he could still imagine his teeth biting down on his lip behind it.

“Alright, man, whatever you say,” Will sighed. “Just know that… there’s no shame in it, okay? Plenty of people have phobias. It’s not a big deal.”

Cecil swallowed. He felt tears coming to his eyes. Will was so gentle it was heartbreaking. “... Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” Will nodded. “Now you’re gonna feel some pressure; that’s just the bandage. I need to do it kind of snug so it won’t move around and mess up the stitches.”

Cecil nodded. “Tell me when you’re done.”

“Will do.”

Cecil felt something tight wrap his arm. He took a deep breath. His heart was pounding, he was aware of every twitch of Will’s fingers. Something was  _ moving  _ in his  _ skin  _ and there was a  _ foreign invader  _ in his  _ body  _ and Will had  _ put something in him  _ that was  _ moving the flesh  _ and it  _ hurt  _ and his stomach was revolting badly and his hand was over his mouth but it wasn’t enough and his breakfast was pouring out of his mouth, through his fingers, and to the floor. 

Will gave him an irritated look. “You just puked on my exam table.”

Cecil couldn’t respond. He took a deep breath, a ragged moan escaping his lips. 

Will taped the bandage in place. “Deep breaths. There we go. I’m done with the bandage now. You’re all right.” He patted Cecil’s shoulder. “Here, man, it’s bandaged. Can you move to a chair? Give me the chance to clean off the table?”

Cecil swallowed. His mouth tasted vile. His stomach still felt terrible. He pressed his lips shut as he moved, flopping down heavily in the chair. He watched Will work through half-lidded eyes, watched as he pulled away the paper that covered the table, watched as he scrubbed it with a foul liquid that stunk of chlorine. The smell didn’t help Cecil’s plight at all. “... I’mma throw up ‘gain.”

Will snapped up. He grabbed a bucket and thrust it under Cecil’s face just as his stomach spasmed, sending another round of drool and vomit spewing from his lips. He gasped, a pathetic whimper escaping his lips. 

Will patted his back with a gloved hand. “Hey, you’re okay.”

“It’s… it was mo-oving,” Cecil quavered. “It was in… inside my skin and it was… it was mo-oving.”

Will moved the comforting hand to Cecil’s neck, stroking it gently. “Was that what set this off? Something being inside your skin?”

Cecil nodded and groaned. He was trembling. His mouth tasted awful.

“... I’m so sorry,” Will murmured. “There was no other way. It’ll heal shortly. With ambrosia and nectar, it should just be a few days. The bandage should keep it from shifting too much. I promise you, you will be okay.”

“... Aren’t you not allowed to say that?”

“Say what? Oh, that you’ll be okay. No, I’m not.” Will’s chest rumbled with a warm laugh. “But you won’t report me, will you?”

Cecil swallowed. “... No, I won’t. I’m just… look, Will, can you keep a secret?”

Will sat next to Cecil, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Sure, man, anything for you.”

Cecil sighed, leaning into Will’s touch. “... You were right. When you asked me if I was… if I was scared of needles. I… I am. Since I was a little kid. I’ve been scared of them for… for as long as I can remember.” His chest was tight. He blinked.

Will almost grumbled. He reached his arms around Cecil, pulling him close. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me before? Godsdammit, dude, I could have done more to help.”

“You’re like my little brother, dude,” Cecil groaned, leaning into Will’s warm chest. “What big brother is gonna tell their little brother that they’ve got some phobia that they can’t kick? I mean, I know that Connor doesn’t know what Travis is scared of. I don’t either, for the record, but still.”

Will ruffled his hair. “Cecil, you’re not my brother or my father or anything like that. You’re my friend. Don’t put the burden of caretaking on your shoulders if you don’t need to carry it.”

Cecil’s eyes pricked with tears. A deep, wet emotion settled itself in his chest. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “... Thanks,” he whispered. “... Thanks.”

Will gently stroked his hair. “No problem, Cecil. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Cecil almost laughed. “... Yeah, I guess that’s right.” He took a breath, looking up at Will. Will’s blue eyes glimmered kindly. Cecil suddenly realized that his lips were bare. “Hey, where’s your mask?”

Will laughed. “Took it off. Figured you’d like it better if I put down my Dr. Solace thing for a second and just was Will for you.”

Cecil couldn’t help but feel warm. “You’re the best guy I’ve ever met, you know?”

Will’s ears turned pink. “Thanks, bud,” he mumbled, patting Cecil’s back. “Hey, uh… you okay to see the bandage? I think it would do you good to see it.”

Cecil swallowed. “Uh. Yeah. Sure.” His heart fluttered with nerves. 

Will took his arm in gentle hands. “Here.”

Cecil looked down. A clean white bandage covered him from his elbow to halfway up his bicep. It cut slightly into the flesh, not enough to make it turn purple, but it was tied quite tightly. He touched it. He couldn’t even feel his fingertip under the tight gauze. “... Good job,” he murmured. “It looks great.”

Will’s chest puffed with pride. “Thank you. See? I told you it was all okay.”

Cecil closed his eyes, trying not to think that  _ under there, something was tying his flesh together.  _ “... Yeah,” he murmured. “... I don’t like it. The stitches. Tying me together.”

“It is weird, isn’t it?” Will agreed. “It’ll only be for a few days. The nectar will keep it from being too long of an ordeal. Trust me, Cecil, you’re okay. The stitches won’t hurt you, I promise. I wouldn’t put it in your body if I thought it would hurt you.”

Cecil took a breath. He leaned his head back against Will’s chest, back into the trustworthy embrace of his friend. “... I know, man. I love you for that.”

“Love you too, man,” Will sighed. He patted Cecil’s back. “I’ve got to finish cleaning off the exam table now. Vomit is a biohazard and the longer I let it stay without cleaning it properly, the more contaminated this room gets, and the more contaminated this room gets, the more risk of infection there is.” He stood up, pulling on his mask and gloves once more. 

“... Thanks anyway,” Cecil murmured. “Yeah, you do what you have to do.”

Will turned to him. Cecil looked tired, haggard. His eyes were half-lidded and unfocused. “... Why don’t you go get some fresh air? I think it’ll be good for you. This place smells like vomit and bleach. It can’t be good on your stomach.”

Cecil staggered to his feet. “... Yeah. I think I’ll do that. Thank you so much, Will.”

Will laughed. “No problem, man. Just doing my job.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will and Cecil's friendship is precious to me.


	151. Non-shippy-Directions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul and Percy are trying to heat up a pizza. It's not going well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request fill for percy2jacksons.  
> Warnings for internalized disability shaming, vague references to childhood trauma.

“How long are we supposed to keep this in the oven for?”

It’s a simple question, really. Find the information on the box and read it out. But Percy can’t seem to answer it. All the words on the back of the box of frozen pizza are blurring together, the letters changing places, the words scrambling. Percy swallows. “Um.”

Paul turns. He gives a vague sigh of frustration. “Son, did you hear me?”

Percy swallows. His cheeks burn. “... Yeah, I… um…” He blinks. It’s taken him almost a full minute to read the word ‘ingredients.’ His heart is beating harder. “Twenty minutes,” he says, without having any idea if it’s right or not. 

Paul studies him. “... Here, son, may I see that?”

Percy hangs his head. He gives Paul the pizza box and turns away. “... I’m gonna… go.”

“Wait, Percy! I still need your help!”

 _Like fuck you do,_ Percy thinks bitterly. _Like fuck you do._

It’s a few minutes before Paul finds Percy.

Percy is lying in his bed, his face pressed into the blanket. His breathing is tense. Paul puts a hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently. “Son,” he murmurs.

“‘M sorry,” Percy mumbles dully. He rolls over, looking up at Paul. He’s smiling, but it looks tortured. “I’m an… I’m an idiot.”

Paul sighs. “You’re not an idiot, you just--”

Percy holds up one hand. “Don’t. I know you mean well, but don’t. I get enough of it from Mom. I don’t need to hear more of ‘disabilities’ or ‘differing intelligences.’ If you don’t agree with me when I say I’m an idiot, then for the gods’s sake, don’t say anything about it.” He swallows. His eyes are unfocused and trained on the ceiling. He can’t hold up that tortured smile anymore.

Paul looks at the face of his stepson and his heart aches. “... Okay. I won’t say anything.”

“Thanks, man.”

Paul places his hand on the top of Percy’s head, gently stroking the raven locks, hoping that he can bring comfort with touch, even if he can’t with words. Percy gives an audible gulp. Paul’s heart breaks just that little bit more. Percy looks so close to tears, the frustration, self-hate and anger are written all over his expression. Percy rolls over and presses his face into Paul’s leg, giving a shaky sigh.

“Can I hug you?” Paul finally asks.

Percy looks up like he can’t quite believe that Paul is telling the truth. He sits up slowly, tentatively, and Paul extends his arms. Percy falls hard into Paul’s arms, a large, warm deadweight, and clings.

Paul rubs his back. “... Percy, you’re my… well, I can’t claim that you’re my son, but you’re the closest thing to a son that I’ve ever had. I love you. I wouldn't care if you’re totally illiterate, you’re still my kid, and that’s not changing, okay?”

Percy doesn’t respond, only clings harder. His chest trembles with deep, shaky breaths. All Paul can think of is that he’s stifling tears, and that only hurts him more. He didn’t even think it was possible for his heart to break any more for this child, but it does, somehow. Paul squeezes the warm body and leans into his shoulder. It feels wrong to try and draw comfort from the one who needs it so badly himself, but Paul doesn’t have a choice. 

It’s a while before Percy pulls away. He doesn’t meet Paul’s eyes. He looks tense, still, almost. Paul can’t help but wonder if maybe, someone else who had held a similar position to him hadn’t been as kind to Percy. He sighs. “You feel a little better, son?”

Percy takes a deep breath. “... Little bit, yeah. I… look, I’m sorry. I just… I couldn’t… I couldn’t. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Paul soothes. “Just lie down. We’ve still got some time before the pizza is ready--and by the way, Perce, you were right about the twenty minutes estimate.”

Percy almost smiles. He curls up on the bed on his side, pulling the blankets up around himself and clutching a pillow to his chest. “... Thanks, Paul. It… it means a lot.”

Paul ruffles his hair. “No problem, kiddo.”

There’s a pause. Percy’s eyes fall closed. Paul feels a pang of happiness at the fact that Percy is comfortable enough to rest in his presence. He can remember a time when Percy wasn’t able to do that. He’d never met a boy so tense and traumatized. 

That only made this moment more miraculous.

He leans down and presses a kiss against Percy’s forehead, his lips light over the crown of his head. His hair is thick and soft and smells nice. Paul gently strokes his thumb over the back of Percy’s neck. Percy heaves a shaky breath.

Paul pulls away. Percy’s eyes are full of a childish vulnerability. Paul wants to crawl into the bed and hold him. “... I love you, okay?” Paul insists.

Percy buries his face in his pillow. “... I love you too,” he whispers.

Paul ruffles his hair. “... I’ll tell you when the pizza is ready, okay?”

Percy nods. Paul stands up and walks away, leaves Percy’s room. _If Percy needs to cry, I owe it to him to let him cry. If he can’t cry in front of me, then I owe it to him to leave him alone._

_My poor, sweet son._


	152. Another Announcement

I finally got my copy of TON! That means that not all details before this chapter are canon. 

I'm leaving up all old chapters, regardless of canoninity. There's a lot that just isn't canon now because of details revealed in TON. 

I'm thinking that I might end this doc and start a part 2 that's all canon post TON. If I do that, then I hope to see you all there. If not, expect new updates as soon as I get my shit together (things have been a little rocky in my personal life as of late, nothing serious, just a lot of school/family shit).


	153. Another announcement

I've made a decision about how I'm gonna be handling this doc going forwards.

I will not be ending it. It will be continued. Just know that what came before this may or may not be fully canon in reference to TON. In other words: the spoilers start here.

I hope to have another chapter up very soon. Prepare for a fucking deluge of Solangelo and soft Apollo & Will father-son content. TON has given me so many feels over both Solangelo and Will Solace in general that it's all I'm gonna be writing for a while. Look, guys, if you're Solangelo fans, or if you just have a casual enjoyment of the ship, or if you want to cry for a very long time, you should read TON. They're so soft in that book I stg

But I digress. I will see you all very soon.


	154. Solangelo- Don't Want to Hurt You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will wakes up to find that Nico's shadowtraveled into his cabin while he was asleep. Turns out, Nico needs some help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tower of Nero spoilers (very slight) and Nico being sad.

Will was mostly asleep when there was a small thump by his bed. 

He gave a half-awake snort and opened one eye. Nico was half-sprawled on the floor at his bedside, his breath shaky. Will swallowed back the crustiness in his throat and pushed himself up on his elbow. “Mh? Nico? Why’ya in the ‘Pollo cabin?”

Nico’s breath hitched. “Will, I…”

Will sniffled. “You good?” He leaned over and extended his hand to Nico. “Here, come on up to my bed. We can talk better if you’re not on the floor.”

Nico’s eyes were wide. Water gathered in the rims. It looked like it could break free any moment. “... But… but…”

Will adjusted his blanket around himself. “But what?”

Nico drew a shaky breath. “But… Will, I could… I could… what if I…” A strangled whimper escaped his lips. 

Will wanted to lean in and kiss away the pain. “What if you what?”

“... What if I… what if I hurt you?” A wheezing gasp broke from his lips.

Shock twisted in Will’s chest, morphing into heartache as he watched tears track slowly down Nico’s cheeks. He took a deep breath, the warm fog of sleep mostly gone from his mind. “Nico, do you want to hurt me?”

The breath caught violently in Nico’s throat. “No! No! No! I don’t want to hurt you! I don’t want to hurt you at all!” His whispering voice was breaking with intensity. “Please, Will, I’d never… I don’t want to hurt you at all! Will, I… I… you…”

“Exactly,” Will soothed. “You don’t want to hurt me. And I trust you enough not to hurt me if you don’t want to.” He took a deep breath. “Look, Nico, you’re not evil. I’ve seen evil. I’ve met evil. And it isn’t you.”

Nico sniffled. His breathing was uneven. “... You’re too… you’re too… kind.” He lay his head tiredly against Will’s bed and closed his eyes. “Way… too kind.”

Will gently reached out and stroked Nico’s hair. “Not at all, my darlin’. Now, come on up to my bed. I think you need a cuddle. It hurts me to see you down there on the floor.”

Nico picked his way up, settling himself on the edge of the bed. Will pushed himself up to a sitting position, holding his arms out. Nico looked over, his eyes hazy, as if Will wasn’t quite there. Will was only wearing an undershirt, his skin looked golden and warm to the touch. Nico suddenly noticed that he was glowing slightly, a buttery-colored light wrapped his skin. Nico was struck by how much of a _perfect_ Apollo kid Will was, a bright beacon of health and hope in a world that was black and cruel. Nico sniffled, reaching out before flinching and pulling his hand away. Fear clenched at his heart; what if he touched Will and he started to wither and fade?

“Darlin’,” Will whispered, “why are you afraid? You can touch me. You won’t hurt me. I know you won’t.”

Nico’s lip trembled. He reached out and touched one finger to the sun tattoo that was peeking out from beneath Will’s undershirt. Will’s skin was as soft as Nico had imagined it to be. He shuddered slightly under Nico’s touch. Nico’s heart stopped. He yanked his hand away.

“What’s wrong?” Will asked.

“... You shivered.”

Will laughed under his breath. “I shivered because your finger was cold and it was tickly. Not because you were hurting me.”

Nico breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank the gods.” He studied Will’s bronze chest, the light cream-colored cotton that covered it, unable to meet the aquamarine jewels of his eyes. He mentally traced constellations in the little freckles that coated Will’s skin, a smiley face, a little sun, a tiny star. 

Will held out his arms once more, hopeful, wanting to be cuddled. 

Nico took a breath. His heart ached. “... I should go.”

Will made a noise like he’d been punched in the gut. “Why?”

“... Because. I should. You deserve…” Nico took a deep breath, shoving down his own hurt, feeling his heart collapse only that much further under its weight, “... you deserve a boyfriend you don’t have to worry about hurting you.”

Will shrugged, leaning back against his pillows, his arms behind his head. Nico tried not to focus on the way his muscles curved in his arms, on the way his hair spread around him on the pillow. “I’m not scared of you. You know I’m not. Now stop being a dumbass and get over here. You’re still upset. I can tell.”

Nico swallowed. He scooted over to where Will was lying, his blanket still tangled around his hips. He studied Will-- _bright, beautiful, warm--_ and thought of himself-- _bleak, ugly, cold, evil--_ lying against him, tangled in his arms. All he could see were his hands resting on Will’s strong healthy body and in an instant, breaking it down to shadows, into a deathly nothingness. He felt his own cold tears flood down his cheeks and drip onto Will’s body, wetting his shirt. “... Um…”

Will reached out and brushed the tears off of his cheeks. “You can do it, darlin’,” he murmured. “You’re doing so well. You can come closer. I promise you, you won’t hurt me. I’m full of light. Your shadows can’t touch me. Even if you were trying to hurt me, I don’t think you could.”

Nico leaned into his hand. He blinked back the thick tears pouring down his cheeks and let himself down on his elbows, his chest laying against Will’s. He buried his face down in Will’s neck, nuzzling into the skin, closing his eyes as Will’s warmth permeated every fiber of his being. He gasped breathlessly, pressing his face into the joint between Will’s neck and his collar, soft skin sleek against his cheek. He sniffled, slightly, and Will’s scent filled his nose, campfire and sunscreen. Nico shuddered and melted, involuntarily, into Will’s embrace. Will brought his arms up to wrap Nico and Nico let his tears fall into Will’s collarbone.

Will stroked Nico’s hair. His heart ached. He could feel Nico trembling against him. Nico felt tiny in his arms, breakable, he could feel his ribs through his shirt. His body was cool. Will gently pulled the blanket up around him, trying to keep him warm. He buried his face in Nico’s shoulder, feeling him solid and real beneath his cheek. Not faded. Oh, thank the gods. Every day when Nico wasn’t fading out of existence was a good one. Besides, Will could deal with trauma. He had enough of his own for three people. But fading? 

No, that scared him.

He traced patterns over Nico’s back as Nico began to sniffle himself out, his shudders easing. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss against Nico’s jaw, feeling the cool skin beneath his lips. Despite Will’s usual aversion to cold, Nico’s lack of heat was something he was fascinated by both intellectually and physically. They formed the perfect temperature when they touched, and besides, no matter what textbooks he went into, he couldn’t find an answer as to why Nico was cold to the touch. It was a mystery he couldn’t solve, something he was doomed to wonder about forever, like a treasure chest he had no hope of any finding the key for. 

He didn’t think he’d ever tire of being with Nico.

It was a while before Nico raised his head out of Will’s chest. His eyes were red. “... I’m so… I’m so sorry,” Nico whispered. “I’m really, really sorry.”

Will smiled. A dim, warm light filled the small cubby of the bunk. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. You’re precious to me. I’d comfort you any minute of any day or night.”

Nico gulped, seemingly stifling more tears. “Will, I could have _killed_ you.”

“You wouldn’t,” Will snorted, gently running his fingers through Nico’s hair. “Look, Nico, you wouldn’t hurt anyone unless you thought they were a threat. You know I’m not a threat, so you wouldn’t hurt me. You love me. Plain and simple.”

His voice sounded so final that Nico wanted to break. He swallowed, biting his lip. “... I’m so glad…” He shook his head, leaning his face back into Will’s shoulder. “... I’m so glad you’re not scared of me.”

Will nodded. He focused on the slats of the bunk above him, feeling Nico’s silky hair under his fingers.

Nico continued. “I’m so… I’m so tired of being a monster, Will. I’m tired of having to worry about… worry about hurting or… or _killing_ the people I care about. I’m tired of having to stay away from people. I’m tired of my touch being poison. I’m tired of the fear and the pain and the hatred and the danger and the trauma. I’m tired of being in pain all of the time.” A sob choked out of his throat. “Why can’t I… why am I just not allowed to be… to be…” He pressed himself further into Will, balling his hands into fists, pulling them away from Will’s body, “... why can’t I just be normal and kind and accepted and loved? Like you?”

Will held him a little tighter, rolling over to lie on his side, curl his body around Nico. He clutched Nico like both of their lives depended on it, crushing Nico against his chest with all the desperation of a frightened child. His sinuses tingled. 

It was a while before he was calm enough to respond.

“I love you,” Will managed, blinking back the tears that pooled in his eyes. “I love you so much it hurts. Fuck, Nico, it hurts so bad to hear you ripping on yourself like this.” He took a deep breath, filling himself with Nico’s scent, rain on rocks, something sweet. “I don’t think you’re a monster. I don’t think your touch is poison. I don’t think you’re abnormal or unkind or evil. And I can assure you, as long as I’m alive, you will never, ever be unloved.” Will’s voice cracked slightly. “Nico, your powers don’t make you a terrible person. They aren’t _you,_ my darlin’, they’re an attribute, same as you having soft raven-black hair or deep inky eyes. And I know you would never, ever use them to hurt someone unless you really thought they would hurt you.”

Nico couldn’t do anything except bring his free hand up to rest on Will’s shoulder, studying the skin, making sure it didn’t wither. He only cried harder when nothing happened. He clutched Will a little bit tighter, letting his hand slip to Will’s back and ball in his tank top, and let himself cry. 

It was a few minutes before he could raise his head again. When he met Will’s eyes, they were as wet as his own.

Nico swallowed. “... I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Will replied. “You needed to get that off your chest, darlin’.”

“No, this is what I was talking about,” Nico whispered. “Will, I made you cry.”

Will sniffled. “You’re too kind.” He brushed tears out of his eyes. “See, this is what I was saying. You’re not a monster. You’re not evil. You never meant to hurt me.” He took a deep breath. “Look, Nico, I was only crying because you were crying. I cry way too easily, really.” Will managed a tiny chuckle. 

Nico sighed. “You deserve better than tears, Will.”

Will smiled. “Thanks, darlin’.”

Nico studied Will’s smile, how soft his lips looked. He blushed. “... You’re welcome, I guess.”

Will nodded. “I’m just glad you’re more calm now.” He gave Nico a little squeeze. “Anyway, why did you crash into my cabin in the first place? Like, I love cuddling with you, but you’re not… really supposed to be in here.”

Pain flashed across Nico’s face. “... I… I had a… I had a nightmare.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Will sighed. “What was in it?”

“I… oh, gods,” Nico whimpered. “I can’t talk about it. Please don’t make me talk about it.”

“Don’t worry,” Will murmured. “I won’t. I just thought… if I knew what the nightmare was about, I could reassure you that it isn’t real. That’s the line of thought.” He took a breath. “Anyway, how did you get here? Did you just panic and shadow-travel?”

There was a long pause before Nico managed a nod.

“Okay. Here’s what I want you to do.” Will pushed himself up on his elbow, releasing Nico. He pointed to a cot in the back of the room. “There’s a sick cot over there. We used it for Dad when he was mortal. Anyway, I washed the sheets since he slept on them, so it should be clean for whoever wants to use it, namely you, because if you try to shadow-travel now, I’ll tie you down and _make_ you rest.”

Nico’s lip twitched into a slight smile. “I’ll sleep in your stupid cot if you tell your siblings why I’m here.”

Will smiled. “Will do.”

Nico gently slipped himself from the cot. His sleepshirt--no, _Will’s_ shirt-- bagged around his knees. His legs were slender and birdlike. “Thanks, Will. It means a lot.”

Will took in every inch of him. He had a sudden vision of himself and Nico in an apartment of their own, waking up by each other’s sides, snuggling at night and pressing kisses over each other whenever and wherever they wanted. 

He must have been staring, because Nico frowned and said “Earth to Sunflower, you all right?”

Will shook his head. “Oh, yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Sorry. I was taken by your beautiful eyes, that’s all.”

Nico snorted, although Will could see the blush of flattery over his cheeks. “Oh, you’re a moron.” He shook his head, crossing the room and relaxing down into the cot. 

“I’m aware. Anyway, are you okay to sleep now? No more nightmares? No more fear?”

Nico pulled the thin fleece blanket around himself. Only his silky raven hair was visible above the blanket. “... I’m a little better, yeah. I think I could sleep.”

Will adjusted his blankets around him, snuggling back into his bed. “Thank the gods. Now, wake me if you start having nightmares again, okay? Or if you start thinking you’re evil or poisonous? I don’t want you to suffer in silence.”

Nico smiled into his blanket. “... Will do, sunflower.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TON SPOILERS AHEAD!
> 
> Okay, so the scene where Meg takes Nico's hands while they were talking about Jason was hEARTBREAKING, like, Nico yanks his hands away because he. Doesn't want to hurt Meg on accident? It said he did it because he felt like "his touch was poison" and... oh, fuck. I'm still messed up.
> 
> Also, I cannot fucking believe that Will basically has a tiddy tattoo. Fucking hell, Rick.


	155. Non-shippy-My Gentle Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo has a terrible dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Tower of Nero spoilers, gore (it's in a dream, but it's still there), vomiting.
> 
> Also, for those who may want a PDF of TON, I think I found one. https://www.epub.pub/book/the-tower-of-nero-by-rick-riordan  
> It can be accessed here for free.

_“Hurry!”_

_Apollo bolted through the darkened tunnel, furiously gesturing to where Will and Nico were stumbling along behind him. They were holding hands. Apollo wished that he had a hand to hold. He could have used the courage._

_The smell of dirt and rot was stifling. Apollo’s chest was tight. “Don’t you dare lag behind!” Apollo was shocked at the venom in his own voice. “Meg’s going to die if we don’t hurry up!”_

_The two boys nodded resolutely. Apollo’s heart jumped to a lively staccato. He couldn’t admit this to himself, but whatever Nero was about to do to Meg, death would be the kindest option. His stomach sloshed. He wanted to curl up against the wall and vomit, but of course, the world wouldn’t grant him that kindness. Gods-awful world._

_He screeched around a corner and howled. A massive yellow cloud descended over him, searing in his throat, burning his eyes. It felt like a thousand fire ants were biting in his eyeballs, tearing his mucus membranes. He staggered backwards, colliding with something soft. A sob broke through his raw, burning throat. Will was slumping to the ground, clutching Nico to his chest, pressing the hem of his own shirt over Nico’s nose and mouth as blood streamed from his lips. He grabbed hold of Will, his own pain suddenly meaningless compared to the sight of his son bleeding before him. He pulled Will and Nico’s shirts up over their respective noses, making sure Nico was protected from the gas before he went to tend to Will. Will’s eyes were glazed and unfocused. He could just barely meet Apollo’s eyes as Apollo grabbed him, tried to drag his and Nico’s limp bodies away from the gas, but he just wasn’t strong enough. He couldn’t manage to move them to safety._

_“Dad.”_

_Apollo swallowed. “... My gentlest son.”_

_“... Don’t do this.”_

_Apollo’s heart shattered. His head spun. He looked back to face Will. “... What do you mean?”_

_“Leave… me. Take… take Nico and…” He gagged violently. Thick red blood formed a slick over the cloth that covered his face. “... Go. Take Nico… and go.”_

_Apollo knelt down. He coughed, tasting something sharp and coppery in his mouth. “My…” He coughed. “My baby. I can’t… leave you!”_

_“... You… you don’t… have… much… time,” Will whispered. “... Love… you. Love… Nico.”_

_Apollo kissed Will’s cheek with burning, blistering lips. “... I love…” he coughed, “... you too, my son.”_

_Apollo watched as Will’s beautiful blue eyes went blank, stuck permanently focused on his face._

_The scream that sounded next could have woken the dead._

  
  


Apollo was sitting bolt upright when he came to his senses. 

Sweat poured off of his body. His tee shirt was plastered to his skin. Thick sobs broke from his throat, wracked his whole body. His heart was physically aching. He was shivering badly, so badly, the kind of shivers that rose up from his feet and possessed his entire being. All he could see was the blood painted on Will’s parted lips, his body waning, dying. 

_What kind of god can’t even save a mere mortal?_

_What kind of person leaves another to die?_

_What kind of father can’t even save his son?_

He wiped his eyes on the back of his hand, taking a deep breath. He looked around for a closet and, finding none, realized that all he had to do was snap his fingers. He changed his clothing to something cleaner and stumbled from his temple, still stifling tears. Olympus was quiet in the dead of night, his footsteps sounded like thunder as he tiptoed down the marble path. He realized suddenly that he wasn’t wearing shoes. Chills gunned through his feet, but he didn’t care. He deserved any bit of discomfort that his immortal form could feel. 

He barely registered arriving at the edge of Olympus, the rough, wild cliffside where nobody lived but Artemis sometimes used for sniping purposes. He took a deep breath of the cool night air, looking out over the horizon. He could only barely see Camp Half-Blood over the horizon, Thalia’s Tree standing tall over the soft rolling hills. He gulped a swallow, hoping, to all the powers above, that Will was there. Tears traced down his cheeks. His mind flashed back to arriving at camp for the second time, Will’s arms curling around him, so gentle and warm it pulled all the tears from his repressed soul.

He needed that now.

The wind picked up and he closed his eyes, leaning in, letting himself dissolve and be scattered in space, his godly consciousness descending in a spiral of light, falling over itself and into his cabin. He materialized by his old sickbed in his cabin. the soft breath of his children pure music in his ears. His eyes fell on Will’s golden hair, shining thinly in the light. Will was lying half on his stomach, hugging his pillow in his sleep. His lips moved slightly with his every soft snore. Apollo wanted to squeeze him until his body shattered. 

Apollo crossed the cabin. He touched Will’s cheek, poking gently. Will cooed softly in his sleep. A tear traced down Apollo’s cheek and he sat by Will’s side, stroking his hair, trying to soothe himself. Will’s hair was silky soft. It curled gently around his fingers like little halos of light. 

Will groaned in his sleep and rolled over onto his back, rubbing his eye with one hand. “... Mh. Nico?”

“No,” Apollo whispered, moving his hand to rest on Will’s elbow. “‘S me.”

Will opened his eyes halfway, his beautiful blue irises catching the soft light Apollo naturally radiated. “Dad!” He held out his arms, moving to make himself more accessible to hug, before blinking and moving again, reaching out to brush tears off of Apollo’s cheeks. “... Why are you crying?” he whispered. 

Apollo took a deep breath. “... I… ah… I’m…” He couldn’t form words. 

Will sat up. He adjusted his tank top around his middle and put an arm around Apollo’s waist, pulling him close. “Hey, come on. Let’s talk.”

Apollo nodded. “Let’s.”

Will led Apollo to the bathroom in the cabin, turning on the light and closing the door. He sat down against the wall, holding his arms out. “Here. Come.”

Tears welled in Apollo’s eyes. He blinked back the tears before kneeling and falling into Will’s arms. Will made a small _uff_ as Apollo collided into his chest, but he wrapped Apollo tight against him all the same. Apollo sank into the embrace, trying and failing to stifle another round of tears. 

Will stroked his hair. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m gonna make it okay. What happened?”

Apollo took a deep breath. Will smelled like sunscreen and campfire, sweet and smoky. He was warm. Apollo’s heart welled with a sticky emotion, this boy was the best thing that had happened to this world and Apollo would kill for the sheer joy of just being able to protect him. 

_Being able to protect him…_ Apollo pressed his face into Will’s cotton undershirt and wept. 

“Dad, please…” Will’s voice was soft with emotion. “Dad, please, take a breath. I’ve got you. You’re good.”

“Baby…” He couldn’t stop sobbing. Tears poured rivers down his cheeks. “Baby, baby, my sweet gentle baby…”

“Dad, you’re scaring me,” Will said, his voice filled with a childish fear. “Please, breathe. I’ve got you. We’re safe here.” He rubbed Apollo’s back. 

Apollo whimpered. He heaved a breath, but no air would come. His chest burned. Croaking gasps escaped his lips. All he could see was blood, blood slicked on Will’s lips, blood pouring from his mouth. “... Scared,” he choked, his voice breaking.

“Scared? Why?”

Apollo gasped a few heaving breaths. “... I… I had a nightmare.”

Will patted Apollo’s back. “What happened in your dream?”

Panic screamed through Apollo’s chest. His throat constricted and he gagged, pulling away to retch into the nearby toilet. Will patted his back, which only made Apollo cry harder. _Oh, baby, baby, my baby…_

When he finished, Will gently guided him back into an embrace, rubbing his back. “It must have been a really bad dream.”

Apollo whimpered an agreement, small gasps breaking from his lips.

“Deep breaths,” Will murmured. “Here, I’ll do it and you can just mimic me.” 

He didn’t wait for Apollo to answer before drawing a breath, deep and even. Apollo tried to imitate, but his attempt turned into a choked gasp. 

“You’re doing just fine, Dad,” Will murmured. “Here, let’s try again.” He drew another breath.

Apollo tried again. He drew another breath, still quavery, but not the heaves of before. 

Will gave it a third attempt. This time, Apollo’s attempt was more successful. He drew a breath that was almost steady.

“That’s good,” Will murmured. “You did so well, Dad. Whatever it was, it was just a nightmare. It’s all okay.” He kissed Apollo’s cheek. “Is there any way you can tell me what was in the nightmare now that you’re a bit calmer? I understand it if you can’t, but I’ll be able to comfort you so much better if you can tell me what hurts.”

Apollo looked up. Will’s eyebrows were crinkled in soft concern. Apollo was taken by a sudden urge to hold him, kiss him. He couldn’t resist. He took Will’s face in his hands and pressed kisses over his freckled cheeks, over his forehead. Will’s curls tickled his nose and he wouldn’t have given it up for the world. 

Will leaned in, letting Apollo kiss him and hold him. “It’s okay,” he murmured. 

Apollo pressed his forehead against Will’s, stroking his hair, the back of his neck. “... Oh, my baby boy,” he whispered, his voice quavering. “My sweet, gentle son.”

Will blushed. “... Thanks, Dad.”

Apollo leaned his head into Will’s shoulder. “... In my dream, you died. I was… I was helping you… helping you and Nico clear Nero’s tunnels when… when he… he released his poison gas. You… you didn’t make it out in time.”

Will gave a sigh. “I’m so sorry, Dad.” He gently rubbed circles on Apollo’s back. “Well, I’m not dead. And I think I’m pretty safe here in the heart of camp. Besides, Nero’s dead. We took him out like, two months ago.” He fiddled with one of Apollo’s shiny golden curls, letting it wrap around his finger.

Apollo closed his eyes. “... I know.” He swallowed. “... Thank you so much, my gentle baby.”

Will gave him a little squeeze. “You’re welcome.”

“But… I guess I just… I woke up and… and I just… I don’t know. I just… I needed…” Apollo took a deep breath. “... I needed to be here with you.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Will murmured. “Don’t fear. I’m okay.”

A knot Apollo didn’t know he held in his chest unraveled. “... Thank you,” he whispered. He shifted, pulling Will into his lap and clinging to him. “... Thank you, my beautiful, sweet child,” he murmured, pressing more kisses over Will’s forehead. 

Will leaned into the touch a little bit. “... You’re welcome.”

It was a moment before Apollo could pull away. 

He lifted his head off of Will’s forehead and released him. Will gave him a small smile. Exhaustion traced the lines of his face, his eyelids fluttered tiredly. Guilt welled in Apollo’s chest. He’d been too much of a burden on his poor son for too long. “... You should go to sleep.”

“You feeling better now?”

“... Maybe. At least I…” Apollo took a deep breath, “... well, you’re alive. Seeing you alive and whole… it’s very comforting.”

“Glad to be of service,” Will murmured. “Do you want to stay in the cabin tonight? You can take your old cot if you’d like.”

Apollo scanned Will’s soft, tired face. “... Can I cuddle you?”

Will’s face lit up. “You’d do that?”

“I’d do anything for that.”

Will smiled widely. He helped Apollo up, gently escorting him out to the cabin main. He could hear the soft breath of his other children, could see their silhouettes. It was soothing. Will lay down in his bed and extended his arms.

“... May I be the big spoon?” Apollo asked. He needed to hold Will, needed to be close to him, needed to feel his weight in his arms. 

Will muffled a laugh with his hand. “If you do that, I’ll be asleep in two minutes, guaranteed. I’ll be too comfy to stay awake.”

 _… I should have known that about you._ Apollo’s heart ached. “... I don’t mind that, Will.”

Will smiled. “Good.” He rolled over, presenting his back. 

Apollo lay down, pulling Will against his chest. He slung a leg over Will’s thighs, wrapping himself around Will’s lanky body as best he could, burying his face in Will’s silky gold locks. Will sighed softly, melting into Apollo’s arms. His weight, warm and solid against Apollo’s chest, was the sweetest thing Apollo had felt in a very long time.

Sleep tugged at Apollo’s eyelids as he breathed in Will’s sweet scent, felt his heat flow against his chest. Despite the peaceful scene, Apollo’s heart weighed heavy with sorrow. How many times in Will’s short life had he desired this? How many times had Apollo been too blinded by his own ego to respond? 

_My baby,_ Apollo silently thought. _My sweet, gentle, soft son, golden child, beautiful, beautiful…_

He pressed a soft kiss to Will’s silky curls and let himself be overtaken by sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't been uploading as often recently. I've kind of been in a bit of a slump lately.


	156. Solangelo-By Lantern's Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will wakes up inconsolable. Kayla finds help for him in the form of Nico and Cecil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of sexual abuse, low self-esteem, references of death, suicide. Also TON spoilers.
> 
> Also makes mention of some headcanony stuff as well as an OC named Suzi. All you really need to know about her for this drabble is that she was a sort of mother figure to Will, Cecil and Lou Ellen. I won't be restating all of Will's backstory here because I did it twice before in chapters 23 and 98, so I feel no need to repeat myself. Go and read those if you really need the context.

_ “Nico.” _

Nico was fairly sure he was still dreaming when he heard someone call his name. He grunted slightly and pulled his comforter over his head, trying to ignore whoever was waking him at what he assumed was an inopportune hour. Unfortunately, the person was persistent. Whoever it was grabbed his shoulder and shook his body hard. “Nico!”

Nico snorted. He opened his eyes slightly, his eyes aching as they were assaulted by the glow of a lantern. Kayla was standing over him, her blue eyes wide with childlike fear. He blinked. “Unh? Kay?”

Kayla drew a shuddery breath. Tears sprung in her eyes. “We need your help. It’s Will.”

That got Nico’s attention. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “What? What happened?”

“I don’t know. He woke up… he woke up screaming and… and we can’t calm him. Austin and I can’t… we’ve tried so hard.” Kayla’s voice broke. “He just… he won’t stop crying.”

Nico’s heart clenched. He took a deep breath and swallowed. “Okay. Give me a moment to put on some proper clothes. Did you wake Cecil? Cecil’s good at comforting him.”

Kayla shifted. “... No.”

“Go do that.”

“... I don’t want to wake the whole Hermes cabin, though.”

Nico growled slightly. “Wake the whole damned camp if you have to. It’s Will. We owe him.”

Kayla jumped back, but regained her balance quickly. “Right. Right. I’ll go do that.” She scampered off, the bobbing ball of light of her lantern becoming ever-fainter as she slipped out the door. Nico stood up, clicking on his table lamp. He put on a sweatshirt-- _ Will’s  _ sweatshirt, he realized with a pang--grabbed his sword and left the cabin. 

The first thing he heard upon entering the Apollo cabin were the hiccups. 

Will lay twisted on his bed, curled up in the fetal position, hugging himself, his head buried in the pillow. Austin sat on the bed next to him. Shudders wracked Will’s whole body. Broken cries spilled off of his tongue. He was hyperventilating, pressed to the wall behind his bed.

Nico’s heart felt like it was being sliced open at the seams. “... Will? Austin? What’s going on?”

Austin jolted slightly and looked up. “Oh, thank the gods.” He beckoned Nico over. “I don’t know what’s going on with him. He’s freaking out.”

Nico crossed the room, bending down to peer into Will’s cubby. “Will?”

Will peered one eye over his pillow. He flinched. His breath caught violently in his throat. “Go away!” Will’s eyes were bright with hysterics. “Don’t… don’t hurt me!”

Nico’s heart twisted. He swallowed and took a few steps back. “... I’m… I’m really sorry, Will, I… I didn’t mean to scare you.”  _ Of course. I’m monstrous and evil, of course he’s scared of me.  _

Will devolved back into sobs, gasping quietly into his pillow. 

“He won’t let me touch him, either,” Austin murmured. “I tried and he only scooted over more.”

Pain welled in Nico’s heart and he curled his arms over his chest. He sat down on the edge of a bed across the room.  _ I shouldn’t stay, I’m only making it worse, but… oh, gods. I’ll just stay until Kayla and Cecil get back. It hurts too much, I can’t leave.  _ “... I’m… I’m really sorry,” he whispered. 

Austin only shook his head. Nico was struck by how tired he looked, with eyelids at half mast and a gaze focused dully on his hands, folded in his lap. Hunched shoulders drew him down, in on himself, until he looked like a crushed little shadow. 

When he finally spoke, his voice came barely above a whisper. “It’s… we’re Apollo kids. We make things okay.”

  
  


It was only another moment before Kayla burst into the cabin, Cecil hot on her heels. Cecil’s expression softened slightly when his eyes fell on Will. Will’s breath was coming in small gasps and whimpers. When Kayla walked over and tried to pet his hair, he pressed himself even further against the wall and whimpered. 

Cecil cleared his throat, straightening up into a commanding stance. “Okay. First of all, everyone needs to stop crowding him. Austin, Kayla, I know your intentions are pure, but you’re doing more harm than good. Can one of you go and get Nico? That might help.”

“I’m already here,” Nico cut in. 

Cecil started. “Hey, Neeks. Good to see you. Austin, Kayla, go over to where Nico is sitting. Kayla, can I have your lantern?”

Kayla wordlessly handed Cecil her lantern and scampered over to sit next to Nico. Her body was a series of tensions, shoulders stiff, legs crossed over each other, her back straight as a yardstick. She was mindlessly bouncing her knee. Nico wanted to comfort her, but he wasn’t sure how.

Cecil held up the lantern to his face. “Hey, Will. Can you see me?”

Will’s hazy, wide, terrified eyes focused slightly. His eyes watered. “Ce… cil?”

“Yeah, buddy,” Cecil murmured. “It’s me.” He moved a little closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Do you know where you are?”

Will looked around. “... I… I don’t…”

“Apollo cabin,” Cecil replied. “You’re in the Apollo cabin. You’re safe. You’re home.” He reached out slightly. “May I touch you?”

Will took his hand and held it to his chest. He held it tight for two breaths. Three. Finally, he whispered, “... You’re not lying, are you?”

“Buddy, I’ve never lied to you. I’ve lied to everyone on earth  _ but  _ you. But I’ve never lied to you.” Cecil rubbed Will’s long, warm fingers with one thumb before turning to Nico and the others. “Guys, can one of you turn on the lights, please?”

Nico was going to move, but before he could, Kayla floated half-trancelike across the cabin and clicked on the overhead light. Will blinked, clearly unexpecting the brightness that struck his eyes. His gaze flitted over each person in the room in turn, tears slowly leaking down his cheeks. He whimpered and pressed his face back into the pillow. 

“... ‘M sorry,” he finally whispered.

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Cecil murmured. “You just had a nightmare and woke up confused. We’re not upset at you.”

A sorrowful moan escaped Will’s lips. 

“Aw, my buddy. C’mere.” Cecil held his arms out. “I’ve got a cuddle with your name on it for when you want one.”

Will didn’t move for the longest time. Finally, he moved just enough to extend his arms for a hug. 

Cecil leaned in and looped his arms around Will. Will pressed his face into Cecil’s shoulder and sobbed. Cecil moved so that he was lying on his side, his chin resting on Will’s head, his fingers tangled in Will’s golden curls. 

Nico wished he were in Cecil’s place.

After all, Will was always by his side. Always comforting him. He always had the right thing to say, knew the right thing to do. And now Will was breaking, had broken, and there was nothing that Nico could do to make it better. Nico would have cried if it wouldn’t have been so unproductive. 

The bed he was sitting on dipped slightly. He turned. Kayla had sat down next to him. She was staring at the ground, a grimace painted on her face, tears streaming down her cheeks. Before he could react, Austin had pulled her into his arms and buried her face in his collarbone.

Austin looked over at Nico. His dark eyes shone with sorrow and fear.  _ He’s only fourteen,  _ Nico realized suddenly.  _ He’s a fucking kid. Well, he’s only a year younger than you, but still. He’s a kid.  _ “You’re a good brother,” Nico murmured. “Once she and Will can breathe again, they’ll be grateful for your cool-headedness.”

Austin took a deep breath. “... It hurts, you know.”

Nico nodded. “I have a sister of my own. Believe me, I know.” 

It was a moment before Will calmed down enough to speak. 

“I’m so, so sorry,” were the first words he whispered. He slowly rose out of the protective circle of Cecil’s arms, scanning the room. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Pain filled his eyes. “I’m so, so sorry, guys, I… I didn’t… I didn’t mean to… to upset you. I…” His eyes flickered over to Kayla, who was leaning against Austin, her eyes still wet. “Kay, I… I’m so… I… oh, baby, I’m so sorry…”

Kayla moved over to Will and curled him against her chest, gently running her fingers through his silky golden curls. “Shh, shh. Don’t be sorry. I’ve cried in front of you plenty of times. It’s okay.”

Will groaned out a heaving sob, nuzzling her shirt. “But… I don’t… I couldn’t… it’s not... _ ” _

Cecil reached out and rubbed soothingly over Will’s lower back. “Don’t tell me you’re ashamed to cry in front of  _ me  _ now. I’ve been by your side forever. I’ve seen you asleep in the bathtub bleeding from the anus. We’ve literally pissed on each other. I don’t think there’s any dignity left to lose between us. Go ahead and ugly cry. It’s fine.”

A whimpering cry escaped Will’s lips. “It’s… it’s not…” He hiccuped, looking back over at Nico. 

Nico couldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t look into those aquamarine blues when they were wet with tears and reddened by agony. “... It’s not what?”

Will reached his hand out. 

Nico’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

_ “Please,”  _ Will begged. “Please.”

Nico moved across the room and took his hand, sitting next to him. Fingers clenched tightly around Nico’s, trembling slightly with barely repressed emotion. “... Anyway, it’s not what?”

“... It’s not…”

“You can do it,” Cecil soothed. He rubbed more soothing circles on Will’s back. 

“We’re your friends,” Kayla soothed. “Look, we love you.” Her voice broke violently and she pressed a kiss to Will’s forehead. “Do you have any idea how much it  _ hurts  _ us when you wake up inconsolable?”

Will pulled away. He heaved a breath through clenched teeth. “And that’s the fucking problem, Kay! You’re all…” His adam’s apple bobbed as he hiccuped and swallowed. “You and Austin and Nico and Cecil and Lou Ellen are  _ precious  _ to me! I don’t want to hurt any of you!” A heaving sob made him shudder. “Anyway, it wasn’t even that. I just… I woke you all up in the dead of night because I have issues and now you’re all hurting and… and…” 

“I mean, technically, the sooner you choke it out, the sooner we all can go back to bed,” Kayla sighed.

Will sniffled. He took a few deep breaths. “... When… and when Nico and I… when Nico and I were in the… in Tartarus… I... they… oh, gods, Nico, I can feel you tensing up and I’m so, so sorry, I… I…” 

Nico couldn’t take it. He pushed aside his own sore emotions and put his arms around Will. “Don’t worry about me. I’m strong. I can handle myself.”

The pressure in Will’s chest had become unbearable. Tremors coursed through his whole body. He clutched Kayla and Nico like lifelines. “When… when Nico and I were in Tartarus, the… we were attacked by… they’re called  _ arai  _ and they’re basically revenge monsters. Like they inflict pain on you in the same ways that you did to others. And I haven’t really… I’m not a fighter, so I haven’t really hurt anyone, so… when they got me… I…” 

He was quiet for a very long time.

“You?” Cecil finally whispered. 

“... I’m so sorry.”

Cecil just rubbed his back some more. 

Will finally found it in him to continue. “... They made me feel…” His voice cracked hard, “... it was… everyone who died because… because of me… everyone who suffered because I couldn’t get my shit together… everyone…  _ everyone…”  _ He gasped. 

There was a long silence. Tears flowed unrestricted down Will’s cheeks. Finally, Will just whimpered “... I never wanted to hurt anybody.”

Cecil took a deep, measured breath. “... Will…”

“What?” Will’s voice was hollow and miserable.

“Those deaths weren’t your fault.”

“Shut up, Cecil. They were. They were.” Another sob escaped his lips. “It’s all my fault. I do nothing right. All I do is hurt people.”

“Will,  _ no.”  _ Nico’s voice broke. “No. No. I…” He clung tightly to Will, pressing his face into his soft tank top, pushing back the desire to kiss him. “You try so, so hard, Will. So hard. You’re not a failure at all. It can’t be all your fault.”

Will pulled away from Kayla and put his arms around Nico, holding him tightly. He shook with heavy sobs for another moment or two before Nico murmured “Is that all that was wrong?”

Will nodded. He sniffled and heaved a few breaths before turning his head and sneezing wetly into the crook of his arm.

“... So… that’s a lie,” Kayla cut in. “What’s the truth?”

Will hugged himself. He gasped hard, his chest heaving. 

“Could you talk to me about it?” Cecil cut in.

Will grabbed Cecil’s hand. He put an arm around Nico’s body and squeezed him, clutching hard.

“Me and Cecil?” Nico asked. 

Will nodded.

“Okay.” Nico gently stroked his hands up and down Will’s back. “Austin, Kayla? Are you two okay to be in here alone for a minute or two?”

Kayla sniffled. She wiped her eyes on her hand. “... We’ll manage. I love you, Will, just remember that, okay?”

“... I… I love… you too,” Will managed. “I’m… I’m so, so sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Cecil murmured. He sat up, putting his arm around Will’s waist. “Let’s talk in the bathroom. I’ve got you.”

Nico silently held Will’s hand to his chest, gently stroking the fingers. Cecil supported Will’s sorrowful body as they slipped into the bathroom. Will flopped bonelessly against Cecil as they sat down, his gangly limbs splaying out wildly across the floor. Nico leaned on Cecil’s shoulder as well, taking one of Will’s hands in his, the other tangled in Will’s wild curls. 

“... I’m sorry,” Will finally mumbled. 

“Stop apologizing,” Nico cut in. “It isn’t your fault. It’s okay. Now… what else is wrong?”

Will took a deep breath. “The arai… they… they also showed me…” He trailed off.

Nico stroked Will’s hair. “What did you see?”

An exhausted sob forced its way out of Will’s throat. His pain was devouring him alive, eating him from the inside out, and it was palpable. “... They…”

Cecil rubbed Will’s side. “Take your time.”

Will whimpered. It was a long time before he spoke. “... I… I… they… when I… I told… I had… I… I…” His voice broke and he heaved a few gasping breaths. 

The others were silent, waiting for him to continue. Nico took a deep breath of Will’s hair, enjoying the smell, so sweet, so  _ him.  _ It made Nico’s heart warm.

Will took a breath. “... Cecil, you remember how… how Suzi made me tell the cops about… about Louis, and what he did to me…?”

Nico’s heart clenched. If he had to see Will cry one more time over that damned sexual abuser, he swore he was going to kill someone. Will deserved so much better than that. 

“Yeah, I remember that. It took me a full fucking day to find you. Why? Did the arai bring something up?” Cecil asked.

“... They said it was my fault. That he killed himself. They said… they said if I hadn’t run my jaw… if I hadn’t told anyone… then… then…” he sobbed, pressing his face further into Cecil’s chest. “... They called me a murderer. For telling on him. They said if I’d never spoken up, then… then he wouldn’t have died.”

Neither Nico or Cecil spoke for a very long time.

What was there to say? What could you say to someone who’d been treated in that way by someone who’d said he’d care for him? Nico took a moment to thank every divine being in existence that Will had been able to stay soft, hadn’t gone hard against the agonies he’d been put through, could still feel love, could still feel warmth. 

Finally, Nico found words. “... I’m never going to treat you that way. I promise. I won’t… I’d never force myself on you against your will. I’d never hurt you in that way. I love you, okay?”

“... I love you, too,” Will hiccuped.

They held Will for a few more minutes. Fingers tangled softly in Will’s hair, stroked over his back, rubbed tenderly over his arms. Will gradually cried himself out, his sobs tapering to whimpers and sniffles and down to small, tired breaths, until he was left trembling in the warm embrace of his two favorite people. 

“Let’s go back to bed,” Cecil murmured. “You’re cold.”

“Don’t go,” Will begged. “Please. Stay here. I don’t care if Chiron yells at us tomorrow, I just… I need you both. Please.”

“Of course,” Cecil agreed immediately. “It might get awkward to cram all three of us in a twin bunk, but I’m sure we’ll manage.”

Nico internally cringed, but didn’t say anything. They helped Will up and eased him back to the main cabin, laying him down in his bed. Someone had turned off the lights, plunging the cabin back into dimness.

“Is he better?” Austin asked. Kayla was curled up in his bed. He was stroking her hair. 

“He’s a little better, yeah. Nico and I are gonna stay here with him. I think he needs it.” Cecil flopped down behind Will, pulling him into a spoonhug. 

“Good,” Austin nodded. “Yeah, Kayla passed out shortly after you guys went in there. She cried a little and then fell asleep.”

“Poor baby,” Cecil murmured.

“Truly.” Austin stretched. He gently lifted Kayla up into her own top-bunk bed, adjusting the thin sheet over her as best as he could. “Anyway, I’m tired. Don’t be too loud.”

“Right,” Cecil murmured. 

Will held out his arms to Nico. Nico pressed himself against Will’s chest, nuzzling under his chin. He listened to Will’s soft sniffles, his sinuses still clogged from crying. It made his heart hurt. “Will?”

“Mhm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Mhm.”

Nico turned up his head just enough for his lips to meet Will’s, a soft, chaste press. He tasted salt tears on Will’s lips and vowed never to be their cause. “I love you,” he mumbled. “And I’m never gonna hurt you like he did.”

“Gay,” Cecil whispered from somewhere behind Will.

“Oh, shut up,” Nico grumbled, pinching Cecil’s arm.

Cecil just laughed. It didn’t take long for the three of them, exhausted, to fall into sleep. They could unpack the baggage in the morning. For now, it was enough that they were safe and had each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you all thought I was dead, didn't you? Well, I'm not! Just struggling with crippling self-doubt, writer's block and other miscellaneous preoccupations. 
> 
> Hopefully I'll see you all again soon.
> 
> Also, read this. https://archiveofourown.org/works/27372673


	157. Implied one-sided Reypollo, mentioned Hermes/OC- The Typical Hermes Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo's not quite himself after his time as a mortal. Some of Hermes's old jokes sting a bit more than they used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for TON spoilers, Apollo is mopey, guys talk about having sex with women. Hermes is a chad. Hermes isn't as soft as he is in some of my other fics, but he's not a douchebag either.

It’s a lightly cool, breezy day, and Hermes is jogging through the outskirts of Olympus. 

Normally he’d just fly, but there’s something so innately satisfying about the way his feet hit the ground, the way the breeze kisses his cheeks, that he can’t help himself. It takes the edge off. Being a god is difficult, and he needs to get away from it all sometimes. 

His foot connects with something warm and soft and he nearly tumbles, flapping his wings to right himself before turning to the figure that sits before him. “Oh, hey, Apollo!”

“You took bets,” are the first words out of his mouth. 

Hermes cocks his head. “Huh?”

“You took bets. On whether or not I would die. When I was mortal.”

Hermes flits nervously. “Oh, yeah. I did that. Look, what’s a little gambling among bros? I am the god of it, after all.”

“Does my life mean anything to you?”

The question catches Hermes off guard. Apollo’s his brother. He can’t remember a time when he wasn’t there. Like the sun, Apollo was ever-present. If he was being honest with himself, the months when Apollo had been mortal had been weird at best, downright terrifying at worst. He thought of seeing Apollo stumbling into Camp Half-Blood disoriented, only to collapse in the amphitheatre. He thought of watching Apollo nearly die to Medea’s hand, to the strange tightness he felt in his chest as he watched his brother’s skin blister. He thought of Apollo gargling poison in Trophonius’s cave, of his tears falling on the cheeks of that half-dead demigod girl--what had her name been? Mary? May? No, not May. He would have remembered if it was May. 

He thought of seeing Apollo nearly dying at the hands of the zombie wasting disease and then, after everything, dissolving in Chaos, of the tight knot of fear that had lived in his chest since he had been made mortal. 

“You’re my brother. Of course your life means something to me,” Hermes replies.

Apollo only shakes his head. “I don’t think you would have been laughing and joking and placing bets if it did.”

Hermes shifts. “... Apollo…”

“Don’t ‘Apollo’ me. I don’t want to hear it.”

“... Sorry,” Hermes murmurs. “I… I don’t… look, Polly…” He takes a breath. “I don’t know how warm and snuggly those mortal kids of yours are, but this family isn’t like that. You know we’re dysfunctional. Just because I’m a jackass to you doesn’t mean I don’t care for you.”

“So what, you do care? You just… what? I don’t…” Apollo shakes his head.

“‘Course I care,” Hermes shrugs. “You’re my brother. I just…” He takes a deep breath, emotions stirring lightly yet painfully in his chest. “... Look, Apollo, I… I love you. You’re my brother. I… I… when you were… when you were mortal, I…” He swallows. “Look, what I said about needing it for stress relief was true. I was scared. I was scared out of my mind for you.” He reaches out, putting his arm around Apollo’s back, pulling him in gently. 

Apollo gasps slightly at the contact, then melts into the touch, leaning his head on Hermes’s shoulder. Hermes hears the sobs begin breaking from Apollo’s lips, small hiccups and whimpers, and the uncomfortable emotions that have been troubling his heart for the past many months stir up even further. He rubs Apollo’s side, carefully, waiting for him to cry himself out.

It takes longer than he thought it would. 

Finally, Apollo wipes the tears from his bright cerulean eyes and looks over at Hermes. “How could you?”

Hermes doesn’t reply for a long time. “... It hurt. When I laugh at things that hurt, it hurts less.”

“... How the hell are you all able to laugh at me when I’m hurt and almost dying?” More tears spill over his cheeks. 

“I don’t know!” The words come more sharply than Hermes intended them to. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t help you, I couldn’t do anything to change your fate, what was I supposed to do? Sit alone in my temple and cry? I had to do  _ something!”  _ Hermes takes a deep breath, trying not to cry in his own right. “I just did… I did what I always do. Lighten the mood. Crack some jokes. Do some stupid stuff. You know. The typical Hermes act. I didn’t… I sort of expected you to… to shrug it off. I’m sorry.”

Apollo sniffles. “... My son. When I got to Camp Half-Blood for the second time, my son Will ran over and… he just held me.”

Hermes shrugs. “That’s nice. How is it relevant?”

“Why can’t you guys be that nice to me?”

“Because we’re a completely dysfunctional family and I don’t think any of us were actually held as children save you, Art and Dionysus?”

Apollo almost laughs. “Sometimes I forget that you’re actually smart. You’re right.”

“Yeah. There’s not much love in this family.” Hermes lies back on the cool, soft dirt. “I think that’s why we all have so many kids. We’re seeking love in other places. Because we’re sure as hell not getting it here.” His lungs long for air and he pulls a breath, letting his eyes close. “But I love you, though. I think.”

Apollo reaches out and touches Hermes’s hand, giving it a powerfully tight squeeze. “I love you too. I just… I don’t… I think that’s why it hurt when I found out that you were taking bets. It felt like… it felt like you didn’t care for me.”

“Believe me, brother, that was not the case. I love you dearly. I just… I needed stress relief and… and that’s how I came about it. I’m sorry.” He fixes his bright blue-green eyes on Apollo, giving moony eyes.

Apollo sighs. “... I guess you’re right. And… truth be told, I… if I hadn’t ever become mortal, I think I would have partook.”

Hermes gives a snorting laugh and ruffles Apollo’s hair. “I  _ know  _ you would have partook, dear brother.”

“... And it makes me feel sad that I would have done that,” he sighed. 

Hermes shrugs. “Sounds like a you problem.”

“I guess it is,” sighs Apollo, closing his eyes. 

There’s a long pause. Hermes nearly drifts off, the ground is soft and Fates know he’s slept in worse. He hears Apollo shifting next to him, then feels a pressure on his abdomen. He lays his hand on Apollo’s head and pets his hair. Apollo’s breath is warm across his stomach; the moment is warm and soft and Hermes doesn’t realize how tired he is until he’s almost asleep. 

Finally, Apollo groans slightly. “Mm. I’m tired.”

“You wanna go back to your temple and sleep?”

“... I want to cuddle more.”

Hermes laughs. “That’s my big brother. Always touching. Glad you didn’t change too much.”

“I don’t know how to respond to that,” Apollo sighs. 

Hermes snorts. He doesn’t say anything more, just lets Apollo rest on his stomach for a few moments. Finally, he asks “So what were you doing when I got here?”

“... Just… well, not  _ stalking,  _ but I was just watching some friends. Godly sight and all.”

“Which friends?”

“Uh. You know. Meg. Will. Nico.” Apollo heaved a deep sigh. “Reyna.”

“Aww, does someone have a crushy-wushy?”

“I’ll put an arrow where the sun doesn’t shine, you know that?”

Hermes laughed. “Come on, dude. I know you’re into anal stimulation, but this is extreme even for you.”

Apollo moved so that he was hanging over Hermes. “Hermes, I swear--”

Hermes merely smirked. He poked Apollo’s side lightly a few times. “Aww, don’t be like that. Come. Let’s do something to distract ourselves. I’m sure your friends are quite well. They can do just fine without you watching over them constantly. Anyway, I met this girl over in Washington DC, you want to meet her?”

Apollo squirmed at the contact, sitting up over Hermes. “And by ‘meet her,’ you mean…”

“You know. Hang out. Have a couple drinks. Maybe have a three-way. You know. Our normal bonding time.”

Apollo imagined sinking into some girl he’d just met, impersonal and loveless and Hermes’s besides. An uncontrollable shiver of revulsion crawled up his spine. “... I think I’m good.”

Hermes raises an eyebrow. “That’s unlike you, Apollo. Are you feeling well? Or are you just upset that I haven’t picked out a boy for you this time?”

“No, I just… I don’t want someone that’s yours. I don’t want someone I’ve never met. I don’t want to… I don’t want to bring some poor child into this world that I’ll inevitably forget as a result of a one-night stand, you know?”

“You can take the mouth,” Hermes shrugs, ever the problem-solver. “Then you’ll get all the sex with none of the guilt.”

“You’re entirely missing my point,” Apollo grumbles. “Look, Hermes, I’m not horny right now. And I won’t be horny tomorrow either. I just… look, man, can’t we just go get lunch? Can’t we just hang out together with no bullshit? Fuck’s sake, man, I don’t need sex. I need a brother, okay? I just need… I need you to be a brother and not a wingman or a fuckbuddy or anything else! Just a brother!” Tears drip onto Apollo’s cheeks.  _ “Please!” _

Hermes holds up his hands. “Hey, hey, don’t cry. I’m sorry for suggesting, man, I was trying to help.”

Apollo wipes his tears. “I’m sorry. I don’t… I just…” He leans down, putting his head back on Hermes’s stomach. “I need… I want to… I want to go home. I want to be held. I want… oh, Fates, Fates, I can’t… I just… I need so much help.”

Hermes purses his lips. “I think you do.” He sits up and puts his arm around Apollo, soothing him, wiping the tears from his cheeks. That concerned Hermes. Apollo’s tears were clear and didn’t glow at all. “Well, I was trying to provide a distraction, but you don’t seem to want a three-way, so... you suggested that I take you out to lunch? Would you like that?”

Apollo sniffles, wiping his eyes and looking over at Hermes, vivid cerulean eyes meeting pale blue-green. “I’d love that.”

A sly grin stretches Hermes’s lips. “May I bring the girl I was talking about?”

“Come on, Hermes, why?”

“I jest, I jest,” laughed Hermes. “I’ll make it just the two of us, okay?”

Apollo leaned against Hermes’s chest, pouting. “You’d better.”

Hermes pressed a kiss against Apollo’s nose. “I will, brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for infrequent upvotes. College has gotten kind of busy and I've been having trouble getting in the mindset to write. I hope this isn't upsetting anybody.


	158. Non-shippy (implied Solangelo)-Come, Sit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very short idea I had. I wrote this in the middle of the night. Anyway, TON basically reinforces the implication started in BOTL that Dionysus has a soft spot for Nico, so I wanted to write about that a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for internalized homophobia.

“Nico.”

Nico raised his head. His heart pounded, and he suddenly thought that it was a mistake to stay behind after the counselor’s meeting to play Pac-Man on Dionysus’s machine. Speaking of Dionysus, the wine god was sitting on the Ping-Pong table behind him with a neutral look on his face. “What?”

Dionysus took a slow sip of his Diet Coke. He patted the table next to him. “Come. Sit.”

Nico made his way on trembling legs. He didn’t know why, but Dionysus frightened him. Something about those liquidy purple eyes unnerved him. “... Why?” he managed, his tongue like sand in his mouth.

“Just wanted to ask you a question. Nothing big.” Dionysus’s voice was cool and perfectly calm. 

Nico nodded. 

“What is your relation with that Apollo boy?”

Nico’s heart clenched. He crossed his arms over his chest and shivered. His entire body shook. Chills traced down his spine. No sound came out when he opened his mouth, so he just shook his head.

Dionysus snorted. “We all know _that’s_ not the truth. _No Relations_ is as false as it comes. You and he are always together.”

“... I’m allowed to have friends, you know,” Nico finally managed, his stomach squishing. 

Dionysus shrugged. “I know.”

They fell into a prolonged silence. Nico wanted to run, he really did, but he couldn’t move. His stomach cried in pain, but he couldn’t move enough to ease it. His eyes stung slightly and he couldn’t manage to blink. He trembled.

“You’re scared,” Dionysus said simply. 

Nico swallowed. “... Maybe.”

“Yes,” Dionysus insisted. “Why are you so afraid? What of?”

Nico couldn’t speak. He swallowed. How could he explain anything to Dionysus? How could he explain the crippling fear he felt whenever his love was brought up? How could he explain the pain he felt when Will smiled at him, that soft, gentle smile that put every heart at ease? How could he explain how evil, disgusting and malformed he felt? 

He didn’t even realize he was sobbing until two strong arms pulled him in and pressed him against a soft, round body, nesting his head into a shoulder that smelled strongly of wine. Steady hands gently patted between his shoulders as he cried himself out. He felt sick, so sick, and he wanted to be anywhere but here, anywhere but with this prying god cuddling him. 

He didn’t want this. 

“You’re scared,” Dionysus murmured. “You’re scared because you love him, am I right?”

Nico whimpered. 

“I’m right,” Dionysus sighed. “Why were you scared to tell me?”

“I don’t want to… to… oh, gods, I’m…” Nico’s lungs longed for air and he gasped, hiccuping weakly, “... I don’t want to… to lose this place. I’m… I’m finally _happy,_ or the happiest I’ve been in a while, and… and I don’t want to be… be kicked out, or hurt, or… or…”

“... For fuck’s sake, di Angelo, I ran a sex cult for three millennia. I’m the actual _god_ of sexual confusion. Do you really think I would allow you to be kicked out?” Dionysus gently stroked through his thick dark hair, smoothing it down to manageable levels of fluff. “Look, if anyone actually tries to hurt you for this, you should fight back. It’s not right for people to hurt you over stuff you can’t control.” 

If you had asked Nico what he needed to hear most in life, he wouldn’t have been able to tell you until that moment.

A massive dam burst in his chest and he _wailed,_ balling his fists in Dionysus’s shirt and clinging like a frightened child, which he supposed he was. His heart ached red and vivid and he couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t _breathe…_

Dionysus silently held him until he caught his breath. Finally, he pulled away, wiping his eyes and sniffling. “... I’m… I’m really sorry,” he whispered. “I just… I’m really… I guess I just didn’t realize… how scared I’d been until… until…”

Dionysus shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry for confronting you about it. That wasn’t right of me. I suppose I didn’t realize how scared you were, either.”

Nico pursed his lips. “... I’m not used to hearing gods apologize for things. It’s an odd feeling.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Dionysus sighed. 

There was a pause. Finally, Nico rose up off the table. “... I have to go.” _Will wanted me to meet him an hour ago._

Dionysus only scanned him further. “... I suppose we have a lot of work to do.”

Nico huffed. “... Yeah. I suppose we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have no idea how good that was, but I posted it anyway. I guess it just be like that sometimes.


	159. Non-Shippy-Never Greeted You Properly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil's just gotten back from being kidnapped. Will didn't get a chance to greet him properly right after he was saved. 
> 
> He misses his buddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vague discussion of PTSD, but not very graphic.

Cecil’s working on cleaning up the Hermes cabin for inspection when there’s a small tap on the door. 

He opens the door. Will’s on the other side. His hair looks messier than normal, but otherwise, he doesn’t look any worse than he normally does. “Oh, hey, man,” Cecil nods.

“Hey,” Will replies. “May I come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” Cecil shrugs. “Don’t make a mess, though. We might actually get higher than a three out of five this time.”

Will smiles briefly and enters the cabin, sitting on the side of Cecil’s bed. “You know I won’t, man.”

Cecil flops on the bed behind him. “So, why’d you come to me? Do you need something?”

Will sighs. “I feel like we never properly greeted each other after Dad saved you from being kidnapped.”

“True,” Cecil agrees. “I mean, I didn’t want to disturb you. I knew you were in doctor mode. I just… I didn’t want to break that because I knew there were still others that needed healing.”

Will nods. “... Yeah. No. I wasn’t in the right headspace to greet you. Too many other people needed me. I’m sorry.”

Cecil snorts slightly. “No, it’s good. I’m not mad.” 

There’s a pause. The two boys scan each others’ faces for a moment, trying to memorize the shapes, Will’s freckles, Cecil’s buckteeth, the way Will’s golden eyebrows blended into his tanned skin, the way Cecil’s smile melted from sarcastic to sweet the longer he looked at Will. Finally, Will gives a breathy laugh and mumbles “C’mere, buddy.”

Cecil sits up and falls against Will’s chest, leaning into his best friend’s warm embrace. His eyes sting and he squeezes Will tightly, not realizing how much he’d wanted that until he felt Will’s arms snug around his back.

“... I missed you,” Will manages, his throat tight. “Oh, gods, I missed you so much.”

“... I missed you too, buddy,” Cecil squeaks, his throat tight. Tears tease in his eyes and he blinks rapidly. “... I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Will murmurs into Cecil’s shoulder. “I’m not mad at you. You’re my best friend.”

“Same,” Cecil whispers. “Same.”

They hold each other for a long time. Neither of them really want to pull away. Cecil trembles slightly in Will’s embrace, emotions filling his chest. He’s tired, overwhelmed, saddened, scared and he doesn’t want to break down in Will’s arms. It  _ hurts,  _ and Cecil doesn’t know how to make it any better.

Finally, they part. Cecil takes a deep, shaky breath. “... Thanks,” he whispers. “Thank you so much.”

Will looks at him with a softly sympathetic expression. “No problem, man. Now, are you okay? You’re a little shaky.”

Cecil made a breathy, bitter laugh. “... I don’t know.”

Will puts an arm back around him and eases him down to sit on his bed. “Nightmares, spacing out, panic attacks?”

“Nightmares,” Cecil agrees. “I don’t know about panic attacks, I don’t really know what they are. But yeah, I’ve been… I’ve been having really bad nightmares lately.”

“It happens,” Will murmurs. “Look, man, Apollo owes me one. You can sneak into my cabin any time if you need it. If you’re really suffering, I’ll drop everything to help you. Okay?”

Cecil’s eyes sting. He blinks hard and nods. “Yeah. Yeah,” he replies, swallowing. “... You’re the best, you know that?”

Will just laughs. “Nah, man, I think that’s you.”

“Oh, fuck off with that,” Cecil laughs breathily. “Take a goddamn compliment and shut up.” He leans against Will’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his body.

“No,” Will replies, his voice light and joking. “I refuse to take your compliments if they’re untrue.”

“They’re true, though,” Cecil murmurs.

Will ruffles his hair. “Naaaaah.”

There’s a long pause. Cecil lets the weight of Will’s arm melt a knot he didn’t know he still held in his heart. He hadn’t known how much pain he was in until Will had taken him in his arms, telling him how much he’d missed him, telling him how scared he’d been. Will is warm, he smells faintly of campfire smoke and sweet-smelling deodorant. It’s deeply soothing, and Cecil’s almost asleep before he can really take the time to think about it.

Cecil yawns, blinking and forcing himself awake. He sits up and crosses his legs, wiping his eyes. “... Thanks, man.” He looks around the cabin, shaking his head. “Damn. I still need to clean this place. It’s not at all tidy yet.”

“Need help?”

“Nah. I’m good. You go make sure your guys are keeping it clean in your cabin.” Cecil rises off the bed, kicking a spare wad of paper under the next bunk over. 

Will stretches, cricking his shoulders before standing up. “Yeah. I should do that. Do you wanna meet me later today at our spot by the canoe lake?”

“Sounds good,” Cecil laughed. “See you later, man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Will & Cecil friendship is literally my lifeblood and I don't know why more people don't write about it


	160. Non-shippy-Photographs and a Violet Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are six photographs on Dionysus's bedside table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for death, grief

There’s six pictures on Dionysus’s bedside table.

One of them is his wife. She’s wearing a low-cut dress and smiling, holding a chalice of wine in her hand. Her white dress gleams against her tanned skin. She’s a little drunk and it shows, her smile is hazy and her eyes are slightly unfocused. Hermes took the photo at some party they’d thrown at some point a while ago, Dionysus doesn’t remember when. He supposes it has to be sometime in the past fifty or sixty years, after color film was invented. 

But it isn’t important.

The second photo is of two children. Blond, violet-eyed and smiling. They’re thirteen years old and innocent. One of them has a pimple on his cheek. They’re hugging each other, arms linked in an embrace, heads leaned against shoulders, eyes shining. They’re wearing camp tee shirts that look relatively clean, for a full year of camp. One single camp bead rests on each of their collarbones, looking bright and shiny.

The third one, the children are fourteen. The smiles are still there. One of them has a fresh scar on his collarbone--a nick from a sword, received during normal camp activities. The other has a purple streak dyed through his soft golden locks. 

The fourth and fifth are more of the same. The children get older. More beads grace their throats. The smiles fade slightly, but not that noticeably. They still hold each other. The scars increase in number, small pink lines cutting through soft peach-colored flesh. It’s a picture-perfect teenagehood, two brothers growing up together, being part of each other’s lives, hands on shoulders, hips touching, wide smiles and dirt. Eyes shine brightly, softly, hearts are swollen, flush with warmth.

They’re each other’s whole worlds.

There’s a gap in the photographs there. A single violet rose lies on the dark shiny wood, the petals still fresh, somehow, even after sitting there for ages. If you were to pick it up, you’d feel a lingering sense of sadness, loss, even. You might be inclined to weep if you hold it long enough. You may even have a vision of a boy with gentle wine-dark eyes, smiling kindly at you. If you were to smell it, it would bear the scent of fruit juice and linen. If you touched the petals, they’d feel like silk. 

The next and final photo, there’s only one boy, and he is alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this was the shortest thing on this doc.
> 
> Also, does anyone know where Pollux's physical appearance was described originally? I've tried to PDF search it, but I still can't find it.


	161. Non-shippy (very slight, implied Solangelo)-Mentee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lou Ellen has something she wants to ask Nico about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real warnings. This is kind of a short thing. I had the idea in the middle of the night and wanted to write it out. I felt bad not uploading for a while, so... here, I guess.

“Hey, Nico.”

Nico stiffens at the mention of his name. He’s alone on a small lip beside the canoe lake. It’s quiet and private, and he wouldn’t admit it, but he’s grateful that Will showed him this place a few days prior. He turns. It’s Lou Ellen.

“What do you want?” he says, somewhat snippily. 

Lou flinches, stiffening and backing herself up against a tree. “Um. I’m sorry to bother you. I didn’t know you weren’t… I didn’t know you were busy. I can go if you want.”

“Don’t bother,” Nico sighs. “You’ve piqued my interest now, you can’t just run away.”

“Okay! Okay.” Lou Ellen takes a deep breath and sits down a few feet away from Nico. “So… I’ve been thinking. Like, Hecate is kind of an Underworld goddess, right?”

Nico raises an eyebrow. “Correct. Where are you going with this?”

“... And I’ve been thinking. You’re out here… you’re… I mean…” She cleared her throat. “Fuck, this is hard.”

Nico stays quiet. He stares at the ground and a fish skeleton pops out, flops around lamely and goes still. 

Lou Ellen snickers at that. “... Okay. See, you’re doing it again. Okay. What I want to say is that… I guess you’re just super… honest? Like, with your Underworld powers? And… I want that. I want to be able to learn all the cool necromancy shit you’re doing. I mean, like, I’m practically a Hermes kid with the way I use my powers. Hiding people’s shit, turning people into pigs? Why would you do that when you can shoot an instant death ray or some shit?”

Nico doesn’t quite know how to respond to that. He blushes hard and focuses on an acorn that lies on the ground. “... I… I don’t even know how to respond to that. You do realize that… I mean, people think I’m creepy, most animals hate me, my face scares children. Why would you  _ want  _ that?”

Lou shrugs. “I’m not good with kids, I’m not popular here anyway, and back in the Titan War everyone thought I was a traitor because my mom was. I’m not in it for the popularity game. I gave up on that eons ago. I’m in it to raise zombies.”

“... Okay. So… what exactly is the point here? That you’re jealous of me?”

“No. The point is… well… I’d like to be your mentee.”

Nico starts like he’s been electrocuted. He stares at Lou Ellen, gaping like a fish.

“If you’d have me, of course.”

“... Um. Yeah. Sure. I can… I might be able to mentor you. I don’t… I don’t know exactly how a Hecate kid’s powers…  _ work,  _ per se, so I might not be able to be the best, but… I can try. I guess.” He blushes hard. “... Sorry.”

“No, no, I’m flattered!” Lou Ellen giggles and blushes like a schoolgirl. “I’m… look, Nico, it means a lot. Really does.”

Nico feels a small smile touch at his lips. “I’ll bet you money that it means more to me.”

Lou Ellen scans him. “... Well, I’m glad about that.” She shifts. “... Anyway, it’s almost lunch, you wanna go try and drag Will out of the infirmary to eat with us?”

“Sure! I mean, sure.” Nico stands up. “But when do you want to start with the… you know, mentoring?”

“After lunch?” 

The hope in her voice isn’t lost on Nico. “We can try,” he half-snorts. “I don’t know how helpful I’ll be with no prior knowledge, but we can certainly screw around. Just… Will can’t find out about this, okay? Because if your hunch is right and you do pull off something underworld-y, then you’ll definitely be more overworked than you ever have been in your life, and Will hates it when people overwork themselves.”

Lou Ellen raises an eyebrow. “... Ah, yes, of course. No, I won’t tell Will. I can keep a secret.”

“Good. Smart,” Nico nodded. He moves toward her and extends a hand.

She takes it and lets him pull her up. His hand is cold, his fingers are slender. She’s shocked by how strong his arms are. For such a slender, frail person, it’s really not hard for him to pull her up. “Thanks,” she nods. 

Nico gives a nod in reply.

“Not a man of many words, huh?”

Nico shrugs. 

“That’s okay,” Lou decides. “I don’t mind walking in silence.”

“Thanks,” Nico murmurs.

_ And thank you, for reaching out to me the way you did. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like the Lou Ellen & Nico friendship. I think there's a lot of promise there.


	162. Non-shippy-You'll Need It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ares really wishes he could forget the La Rue bloodline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natalia requested Ares and Clarisse, or Clarisse and her mother. Kept it very short so I wouldn't lose steam and make you all wait like a month. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Warnings for violence, abusive behavior, Ares being Ares, and the aftermath of a violent event that's implied to be a rape but isn't explicitly stated to be such.

When Ares leaves the U.S Army bunker for the last time, he’s hoping never to see any member of the La Rue bloodline ever again. 

Sophie had screamed in his face. He couldn’t even _remember_ the last time someone had dared to do that. He’d honestly been too stunned to do anything. She’d pressed the cold barrel of a gun to his chest and told him that if she ever saw him again, she’d pull the trigger. 

Ares clenches his teeth and swears that he’ll never think of her again. There are better people out there. He doesn’t need some bratty army private. He could get a general if he wanted.

He’s almost forgotten about the whole affair when the baby is born. 

Artemis informs him that it’s big for a little girl. Ares really doesn’t care that much. The only time he even remembers his daughters is when he has to step in and save their asses from something. He’d rather do that then see them defiled, but he _really_ wishes one of them would handle their own businesses. 

Artemis must be able to see his vague disappointment because she says “What’s the matter?”

Now, Ares isn’t scared of some little girl, but he doesn’t want to take an arrow to his anything either, so he says “Nothing, Art.”

Six years pass and, once again, Ares nearly forgets about the pair, this time until he feels someone invoking his name. That wasn’t necessarily rare, mind you, but this one came from an unexpected place. He doesn’t remember knowing anyone in Phoenix. He sighs and, after climbing off of Aphrodite, teleported to the location of the invocation. 

Well, that was weird. 

There was a little kid on the ground. Maybe six or seven years old. There’s blood smeared on the kid’s legs, through her hair, on the floor. She’s trembling, and as Ares watches, she vomits on herself. 

Ares looks around. Where the hell are the adults? Did some break-in artist try and take the kid out? Why a six year old? Why was nothing else ransacked?

The kid rolls her head, her eyes fall on him, and his heart stops. 

That’s his kid.

That’s _his_ fucking kid. His and Sophie’s kid. He knows it’s her. She’s got his dark eyes, red in the right light, and Sophie’s stringy, ruddy red-brown hair. Her eyes close as he watches, she whimpers, shifts and groans as bright red blood drips off of her legs to the floor. 

Ares sighs and shakes his head. He pokes the child gently with his foot. “Hey. Get up.”

She looks up at him and moans.

“You’re gonna die if you sit here and do nothing. Get up.”

Her eyes fluttered closed. 

“Are you retarded? Get up! Walk! Crawl! Do something! You can’t just lie there and die! No child of mine would just lie there and die!” Ares stomps his foot. 

The child jerks. She rolls over slightly and lies curled up with her elbows, head and knees on the floor. More blood rolls down her legs. 

“Crawl,” Ares demanded, with all the force of an Army commander. 

She gave a keening cry and slowly crawled forwards a few feet. He watches as she heads towards the stairs to the basement. Ares guesses that’s smart. He can hear the sounds of human life down there. 

She collapses at the top. He can feel her life force beginning to fade. Now, normally he wouldn’t really care, but watching this kid whimper and struggle through what could be her final moments had tugged at his heartstrings. “Get up!” he orders.

She doesn’t even look at him.

“Get up! Gods! Fuck! You’re going to die! Do you know what _death_ is? It means _you’re not living anymore!_ Wake up!”

“... Can’t,” she whispers, her eyelids fluttering shut. Her voice cracks from pain and fear.

Ares’s blood boils, a directionless rage filling his heart. He grabs the girl by her arms, pulls her half to a sitting position and pushes her down the stairs on her rear end. 

If he lives another five millennia, he’ll never forget the way she screamed.

  
  


She recovers slowly. Someone takes her to the hospital and they do what they need to do. Sophie goes to prison for the incident and his blood boils even more. The girl--Clarisse, he finds out--goes to live with her grandmother.

He visits her in the hospital one day, shortly after she’s admitted. He approaches the clerk at the front desk in a simple tank top and jeans, no weapons, no bull, no nothing. “Hey, do you know what room… uh… Clarisse La Rue is in?”

“I’ve been instructed not to tell anyone where she is. She’s under protective custody.” The clerk’s response is flat, like she says this every day. 

“I’m her _father,_ godsdammit,” Ares snarls.

The clerk looks up at him with hazy, dark eyes. He can’t feel a drop of panic or rage coming off of her, which is rare. He guesses working with dying children for gods know how many years will do that to you. “My apologies, sir,” she says calmly. “She’s down the hall, third door to the left.”

Ares nods and makes haste for the door. He enters. She’s lying in the fetal position, asleep, with clear mystery fluids dripping down an IV line into her wrist. She’s bandaged everywhere. Ares purses his lips. She looks so small, so fragile. If he wanted, he could have picked her up with ease. She’s very calm in her sleep, no disturbance present on her face. No pain.

He reached out and touched her head. “Hey.”

She didn’t stir. 

Ares sighs. _Okay._ He’s not an affectionate guy, never has been, but he feels a sudden urge to hold on to her. He dismisses it as yet another intrusive thought and sighs. “... I’m sorry. I heard about what happened. Your mom’s a sick freak. I hate her. Can’t stand that cunt. I’m glad you’re out of there. 

“I don’t know how you’re gonna survive childhood. Not with a mother like that. I don’t know how much time she’ll get for what she did to you, but it isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough. I don’t expect her to change in prison. When she gets out, she’ll come right back to hurt you. And you need to be prepared for when that happens.” Ares thinks quietly for a moment. “Here. It’s not much, but it’s something, and it’ll help.” 

He touches her forehead and a red swirl flows from his fingertips. He watches a pink glow of health take over her body. Her muscles grow in size and definition. She sighs in her sleep. 

_It took well,_ Ares thinks. _Like she was born for it._ “May you grow strong and violent,” he murmurs. “You’re going to need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this was okay!


	163. Non-shippy-Brother Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil, Will and Lou Ellen run into some trouble while hanging out in the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kate requested "Will Solace powers." Here we are. Kept short for ease and speed of production.
> 
> Warnings for some violence, but it isn't extreme. 
> 
> Also, this fic makes mention of a couple of OCs. First one is Louis. I have already talked about Louis. This has the unique status of being the only fic that mentions him that doesn't have a million warnings stapled on it. Second one is Summer. She was the healer at camp before Will was. She died in the Battle of the Labyrinth, but this is set before that.

Everything had been going fine until Cecil broke his leg.

Will, Lou Ellen and Cecil had gone out into the forest for some alone time to talk. It had been a bright, beautiful day in April, not too warm, not too cold. Cecil had been between schools at the time, and he’d wanted to come over to camp for a few weeks, and Louis couldn’t have stopped them if he’d tried. 

“It’s getting dark,” Lou Ellen said, concern in her large violet eyes. “We should go home.”

Will nodded. “Yeah. Let’s not get caught out in the dark. I don’t… no.”

“Yeah,” Cecil sighed. “Let’s go.”

They stumbled up from where they’d been sitting and began wandering back to camp. It was only a moment before they heard a slight flapping of wings above their heads. “What’s that?”

Cecil glowered. He looked up, grabbing his Celestial bronze ax in his skinny hands. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know,” Will whimpered, biting back the urge to cower. 

“Let’s just go,” Lou sighed. “Come on. There’s no point staying here.”

They’re only a few more steps before a massive flapping of wings sounds. They whirled around again. Will sighed in relief. “Oh. It’s just an owl.”

“It looks wrong, though,” Lou pointed out. “See? Its eyes are wrong.”

Then it dived at them. Cecil swung hard at it and screeched as it swiped his arm, blood pooling in the wounds. 

Will whimpered. “Let’s go!”

They ran. Will grabbed their hands and pulled them along. His heart slammed in his chest.  _ I don’t know anything about monsters. I only got claimed last week. I don’t know anything. I’m only eleven. I’m going to die at age eleven. I was gonna train. I was gonna become an infirmary worker.  _

_ I wonder what the underworld is like.  _

They made it a few more steps before they reached a gulley. “Jump!”

“Are you  _ insane?”  _ Lou Ellen screeched.

“It’s the best option!”

They jumped. Will went first, sliding down the rocks. He was sure he’d have bruises later, but he didn’t care. Lou made it down right after him. Cecil jumped and hit the ground with a loud  _ crack.  _ He made a howling cry. 

Will pulled Cecil into his arms. His eyes were glazed over. He was trembling from pain. “Lou!” Will shrieked. 

Lou Ellen started out of what seemed like a trance. She turned just in time to see that horrific owl-monster swooping down again. She grabbed Cecil’s ax and swung hard. It connected with the head of the monster and it exploded into dust. 

She knelt by Cecil’s side. He was pale and wheezing, shaking hard. A shriek of pain escaped his lips as Lou Ellen touched his rapidly swelling leg. “We need to get him back to camp.”

“Yeah. You should go get someone. With his broken leg, we can’t carry him on our own. It’ll jostle the fracture too much,” Will sighed. 

Lou nodded. Her face was pale. “But you’ll be here alone!”

Will swallowed. “... Um. I’ll have Cecil’s ax. It’s fine. It’s better if you go, anyway--I’m the… the Apollo kid, I guess. I’m supposed to be able to help people.”  _ It’s still weird to say that. _

Lou Ellen nodded. “... I hope you’re right about that.” She turned and left, running as fast as she could. 

Will gently moved Cecil so he was lying on the ground, his leg braced by rocks. Tears pooled in his eyes. “How bad is it?” Will asked gently.

“... Make it stop,” Cecil squeaked. “Please! Please, it hurts… it hurts so much…”

“Okay. Okay. Just… I’ll do my best.” He pulled a square of ambrosia out of his pocket with trembling hands and gave it to Cecil. “Here. Take this. It’ll… it’ll help.”

Cecil managed to eat it. He rolled his head back and forth on the ground and whimpered. 

Will looked over Cecil’s leg. He could barely see it in the dark. His heart pulsed hard in his chest.  _ Dad, if… you remember me, right? It’s Will. I’m… I’m Naomi’s kid, I guess. She’s been dead a while but I’m still here. Anyway, my friend is in trouble and it’s getting dark and I’m really scared and I need your help, now,  _ please… 

A light touched his closed eyes and he jerked them open. His hands were glowing.  _ He  _ was glowing. He was glowing bright enough to light up the entirety of the gulley in warm golden light. 

…  _ I wonder if I’m, like, supercharged with healing energy right now.  _ He put his hands on Cecil’s leg. Cecil only looked at him. 

_ Tell me what to do,  _ Will begged.  _ Please, Dad.  _

Will felt a sudden peace. He remembered the hymns Summer would sing to soothe and heal her patients and took a deep breath. He stroked over Cecil’s leg gently and hummed, focusing in. He could feel the swelling going down under his fingers. Cecil gave a shaky sigh of relief. 

He finished the song, black spots welling in his eyes. The dirt he was sitting on suddenly seemed very comfortable. Cecil wasn’t whimpering from pain anymore. It was okay, probably. 

His eyes fluttered shut and he pitched sideways into the dirt, barely registering the crack of his head against the ground.

  
  
  


When he woke up, it was quiet and dark.

It was blissful, almost. He wanted to rest there for a while, floating in a half-sleep, not waking, not aware. He could feel someone gently stroking his forehead, reassuring and soft, and it didn’t help his sleepiness.

Then he remembered.  _ Cecil. Oh, fuck. I passed out on him.  _ His eyes shot open. It was dark, but he could see Lee Fletcher half-dozing by his cot. He was lying on his back in the infirmary. “... Lee?”

Lee turned to him and smiled. “So. Sleeping Beauty finally awakes.”

“... What do you mean?” Will’s throat was parched. It was hard to speak.

“You’ve been asleep for twenty-seven hours. We found you Monday evening. It’s Tuesday night.”

“What happened to Cecil?” Will asked. 

“He’s fine. Summer got him all fixed up. It was you we were worried about.”

“... What? Why?” 

“Dude. You were glowing like a signal beacon. We thought you’d gone radioactive.” A laugh broke from Lee’s throat. “It took ten hours of research and an Iris-message on Chiron’s part before we figured out what had happened.”

“... I’m sorry,” Will croaked. 

“Don’t worry about it. Solarkinesis, man, that’s cool. Nobody else has that, you know that, right?” Lee stroked his hair with a gentle hand. 

Will blushed. “... I guess so.”

“Also… about Cecil.”

“... What?”

“You did good.” Lee’s voice was soft. “You did really good. You healed him really well.”

Will couldn’t meet Lee’s eyes, couldn’t see the intense warmth that filled them. “... Thanks,” he murmured. “... Means a lot.”

Lee kissed his forehead. “You’re gonna be great. I can already tell. And maybe, next time, you won’t pass out for twenty-seven hours.”

Will sniffled. His eyes prickled with tears. He didn’t know how overwhelmed he’d been until now, with he and Cecil safe, with Lee showering him in praise. “... Sorry,” he whimpered, blinking hard. 

“Can I hug you?” 

Will nodded. Lee helped pull him up and wrapped him in a firm embrace, squeezing him tight with archery-strengthened arms. Will buried his face in Lee’s shirt and blinked back tears. 

“Oh, gods, I missed you,” Lee sighed, nuzzling the top of Will’s head. “You have no idea. I thought you were gonna… I was worried you’d never wake up.”

“... Sorry,” Will squeaked into Lee’s warm chest. “... I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Lee whispered. “No big. Wasn’t your fault. I still love you.”

“... Love you too,” Will replied. He gave Lee’s body another squeeze. “... I… I kind of want to go back to the cabin.”

“Let’s go, then. This bed can’t be that comfy,” Lee laughed. “And honestly, I was only here to watch over you anyway.” Lee swept Will into his arms and stood up.

Will nuzzled into Lee’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he whispered. “... Thanks.”

“No problem, man. I mean, you’d do the same for me, right?”

“Of course,” Will murmured. “Any day of the week.”  _ I’m so lucky to have a brother like you in my life. Even if I don’t see you that often, it’s still worth it when I do. _

Lee laughed, his chest rumbling against Will’s side. “Love you too, kiddo.”


	164. Non-shippy-Poor Bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Manhattan takes a lot from the Apollo cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GeekWithoutGlasses requested more of Will and Lee, either fluff or Will reacting to Lee's death. Anyway, I'm in a piss poor mood, so guess what I chose to do.
> 
> Warnings for gore (actually watch yourself with this one, it's somewhat descriptive and might squick), some verbal abuse, and a vague reference to sexual abuse (but it's not explicitly stated and frankly you'll only even recognize it if you've read some of the other drabbles)
> 
> Also, there are some OCs mentioned here. Summer was the previous medic before Will and another Apollo kid. Claire is an Apollo kid OC as well, but you don't really need to know much about her for this. And I've explained who Louis is on several other occasions. 
> 
> This is kind of a vent drabble.

“Will!”

 _Who is that?_ Will thought. He couldn’t register his name. He was too focused on the unconscious camper in front of him. He’d dragged her behind a tree after she’d been slashed up by a flock of mad harpies. 

“WILL!”

 _Okay._ That was Lee screaming at him. He raised his head. Two solid hands slammed against his chest. He tumbled backwards, away from the unconscious camper, and slid down a hill, rolling to a stop facedown in the soft mud. 

“MEDIC!”

He shot up, running for the voice. Away from Lee. It had only been them on that hill. He bolted over another hill, his med kit in hand. “I’m here!”

It was Summer. His stomach lurched violently. Claire was holding her hands over Summer’s stomach, but it wasn’t doing much good. Velvety red blood poured from the wound. 

“We need to get her to infirmary _now,”_ Claire huffed, out of breath. “Where’s Lee?”

“Fighting a giant on that hill over there.” Will pointed. “We left Ellie over there, too.”

Claire nodded. “Got it. Well, if Lee is with her, she’ll be fine. Let’s get Summer to the infirmary. She doesn’t have a lot of time left.”

They hauled up Summer between them and ran. Her gash was even worse than Will had thought it was. He could see the pink viscera squirming in her gut. His stomach churned. 

They put her in the first available infirmary bed. Will yanked on a fresh pair of rubber gloves. 

“Will, her intestines are coming out!”

Will whirled. Summer’s eyes were rolled back in her head. She was barely breathing. Her intestines were squirming, forcing their way out of her slashed-through stomach. Will bolted over, pressing his hands against the flesh, trying to push it carefully back into her stomach. “Get me the sutures!”

“O-okay!” Claire ran for the infirmary closet. 

Will could feel her life force slipping, could feel her heartbeat slowing. _No, no, no…_ Blood gushed over Will’s hands, poured onto the floor. … _nonononono…_ Claire thrust the suture kit into his hands. … _nonononono…_ He closed the wounds, stapling muscles together, stitching skin. _No. No. No. No. No._

She wasn’t breathing. 

He pounded her chest. Claire pushed a bloodbag into his hands and he pumped fresh blood into her veins, pushing against her ribs, her heart, trying to revive her. She wasn’t breathing, wasn’t moving, wasn’t stirring, and her heart wouldn’t restart. 

“Dad, _please!”_ His voice sounded raw and choked to his own ears. “Please! I know you have the power, please, please, bring her back, _let me heal her!_ Gods! Please!”

No response. 

She was still. 

Claire was sobbing. He could hear that much. He felt tears prickle at his eyes, shivers gripped his shoulders like an abusive friend. He couldn’t breathe.

The door slammed open. “MEDIC! Gods, what are you doing in here, masturbating?” Clarisse sent the door crashing open, one of her brothers slung over her shoulder. 

“She’s dead,” Will croaked. 

“But you’re not, are you? Get up and at least _try_ to keep the rest of us alive! You can cry later!” Clarisse growled. “Fucking hell, this is why I hate Apollo kids.”

Will nodded. He swallowed his tears, settling the intense pain down into the pit of his stomach, and went to work setting the unfortunate Ares kid’s leg. 

  
  
  


The rest of the battle was a blur.

Will set more breaks, stitched more gashes, administered more antidote, and sang hymns until his throat was sore and his body was trembling. Tears rolled down his cheeks, snot thickened in his sinuses, and he tried to hide it all behind his surgical mask. 

He was exhausted.

Michael Yew brought himself, Claire, Will, and a few others into the infirmary after the battle was done. Will’s stomach sunk. It was only two-thirds of their cabin.

“So…” Michael started. 

“Where’s Lee?” Will interrupted.

Michael gave Will the saddest look he’d ever seen, and Will’s heart shattered for real. His legs gave out from under him. Claire sobbed, the younger campers cried out, and Will couldn’t hear any of it. 

_Lee’s gone._

A thick sob broke from his throat. 

_The only person besides Cecil who knows what Louis is doing to me is gone._

He curled up on knees and elbows, his head on the floor. 

_He’s dead. I’ll never see him again. We’ll never hug again. Never talk again. He’ll never hold me again._

“... How did he die?” somebody asked.

“Club to the head,” Michael sighed. “Poor fucker didn’t stand a chance. We found him on top of that Demeter girl, Ellie. Also dead. Worst part was, she’d been halfway healed when the giant got her.”

Will barely made it to the sink in time to vomit. It was his fault. If he had dodged out of the way when Lee had called his name the first time, Lee wouldn’t have had to push him. If Lee hadn’t had to push him, he wouldn’t have been in the way of the giant’s club. A terrifying wail filled the room, and Will only barely realized it was his. 

Someone put an arm around his waist. He turned. He could barely register Michael’s face through the tears pouring down his cheeks. “Hey, come on. Chiron’s healing the last few campers that need it. I’m taking you all back to the cabin.”

“... But Lee… Summer…”

“Are amongst the dead in the morgue. We’ll burn them tonight.”

“... Can I see him?”

“... I don’t think you want to do that,” Michael shuddered. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of that poor bastard’s head. Or what’s left of it, that is.” 

Will couldn’t take it. He turned and vomited again. A watery flood of bile trickled down his chin. 

“Control yourself,” Michael chided. “Losing your lunch won’t help. You’re off the hook for the healing but that doesn’t mean you can start freaking out the little kids. You’re thirteen. Kayla’s only nine and she’s not nearly as hysterical as you. Here, take a few deep breaths.”

Will hugged himself. He tried to pull a few deep breaths, but failed. He leaned his head against Michael’s shoulder.

Michael patted his back. “Alright, man. Be that way. Here, let’s go back to the cabin. It won’t help you to stay here.”

Will barely registered the walk back to the cabin. Michael led him with a strong arm around the back. He vaguely felt himself being led down to lie on a soft surface, something warm pulled over his shoulders. He bunched his childhood blanket up in his arms, buried his face in the worn fleece and sobbed.

  
  


It was hours later when Chiron fetched them for the funeral. 

Will wrapped himself in his blanket. Claire put her arm around his back and he returned the gesture. Lee and Summer were already lying in the amphitheatre, two beautiful golden shrouds, side-by-side. 

Michael stood up on an overturned bucket someone had provided. “Hey!”

The gathered crowds fell silent at his shout.

“... They were good people,” Michael started. “Summer Williams took her SATs in the spring. She got a 1510. She was going to apply to colleges in the fall. She was going to study medicine. She was brilliant. I always told her she was gonna discover the cure for cancer someday.

“Lee Fletcher was the best leader we’ve ever had. It was like he was born to do the job. He always knew how to keep people calm in an emergency. If you were having problems, he’d know what to do. If you were in trouble, he’d have your back. We knew things were getting bad because he was getting scared.” Michael took a deep breath. “I guess he was right to be afraid.

“We’re going to miss them both. You have no idea how much I wish I didn’t have to stand here right now. Thank you.” 

Michael bowed and jumped off the bucket. He watched as Pollux from Dionysus choked out a few quiet words before lighting all the shrouds.

Will couldn’t watch. He held on to Claire and buried his face in her shoulder as she buried her face in his. They held each other, rocking back and forth, trying to ignore the sight and smell of burning flesh. 

Michael didn’t remove his gaze from the pyre until it burned itself to ashes.

He escorted Will, Claire and the smaller children back to the Apollo cabin once the bodies were well and fully burned. Will raised his head only enough to meet the eyes of Nico di Angelo. _Right._ He was a Hades kid. He’d been doing the last rites. His eyes were wide and dark, and if Will were in a more present state of mind, then he may have been enamored, but he wasn’t really paying attention to that right now. 

Claire crawled into Will’s bed once they returned to the cabin and he spooned against her, pulling his old childhood blanket over them both. He felt her shake from her sobs. It stung like a burning brand to his heart. 

He cried himself to sleep as Michael paced the cabin, not daring to close his eyes after what he’d seen that day.


	165. Percabeth-Don't You Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy has a confession to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for suicidal thoughts.

“So, why did you bring me here?” Annabeth asked, sitting down on the edge of a sparkling mosaic-tiled fountain amidst the Gardens of Bacchus. 

Percy sat down next to her. He’d been pale and quiet throughout the entire walk, which led to Annabeth beginning to wonder if he wasn’t about to break news that would jeopardize their entire situation. “... Um.”

“Okay, spit it out. Are you failing all your classes? Are you sick? Are you getting sent on another quest? Oh, gods, did something happen back in New York?”

Percy shook his head. 

“Okay.” Annabeth took a breath. “Well, why do you need to talk to me in private, then?”

Percy swallowed. He stared down at the ground, pulling a small purple flower out of the ground and fiddling it around his fingers before turning to her and, very gently, putting it in her ponytail holder. 

“Don’t try and be a flirt right now, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth scolded. “You owe me an explanation.”

Percy stared back down. “... You know I love you, right?”

“You’ve told me, yes.”

“... Well… I just… if I have… if I was… if I had a secret… well, not really a secret, but if there was something I hadn’t been telling you, like, something major, would you still… would you still love me?”

Annabeth sighed. “Depends on what the secret was. I mean, I’m willing to put up with a lot. You know I am. I know demigod life is murky. We have to do a lot of morally grey things. Look, Percy, if you’ve done something terrible, chances are I’ll excuse it. Happy now?”

“... It’s not about that. I know you know I’ve done terrible things. This isn’t about that. I just… I feel like… I wanted to…” He cleared his throat. “... When we were on the quest with the Seven…”

“Yes?”

“... Do you know how I actually got sick?”

“Kym poisoned you, yeah,” Annabeth replied. 

“... It wasn’t just that.” Percy swallowed hard. “I… when she poisoned me, I…” He squeezed his eyes shut, curling up, defending himself. “... She spat a cloud of poison at me, and I…”

“Could you just not push it away?”

“... I didn’t want to.”

Annabeth took in the ramifications of that. Percy wanted to be poisoned. He wanted to be in pain. Maybe he even wanted to die. His life hadn’t meant enough for him to want to keep it. 

Tears stung in her eyes. She pushed them back. “Why not?”

“... I deserved it,” Percy whispered, his voice tiny. He hugged his knees. “Because of what I did to… did to Misery in… in the bad place. I poisoned her, so… serves me right if I die in a cloud of poison, huh?”

Pain filled Annabeth’s stomach, she thought she was going to throw up. “... So… you’re trying to tell me that you tried to kill yourself.”

“... Kind of,” Percy mumbled. “... The only reason I’m telling you this at all is that… is that…” He swallowed, his lip trembling, “... I’m not sure… if it happened to me again, I’m not sure… I’m not sure I’d do it differently.”

“... You’re feeling suicidal.” Gods, Annabeth wanted to cry.

Percy was quiet. He hugged his knees like it was the last thing keeping him from falling off the Earth. 

Annabeth looked over at him. He was staring down at his knees, blinking rapidly, his finger picking idly at his jeans. “Hey. Percy. Look at me.”

Percy half looked up at her, one green eye wet. 

She took his face in her hands. “I’m not gonna let you hurt yourself. Okay? Now look, we don’t live under the same roof. I can’t be there all the time. But if I have to arrange some scenario where you’re under supervision every second of every day including when you’re showering, I will. If I have to buy a camera drone to follow you around and supervise you 24/7, I will. And I can, too. I have a cell phone and some money I got from crazy Uncle Randolph’s death.” She gently rubbed circles on his soft skin, causing him to lean a little more into her hands. 

And then she couldn’t take it anymore. 

Tears trickled down her cheeks and she grabbed Percy in a tight hug, clinging to him and pressing kisses over his cheeks, neck and jaw. “... I love you,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “I love you so much.” 

Percy leaned his face into her shoulder, sniffling softly. “... ‘M sorry.”

Annabeth sighed. “You better not do anything, you hear?”

Percy swallowed and responded, in a weak voice, “I’ll try not to.”

“No, I’m serious. It would break your mother’s heart. It would break  _ Tyson’s  _ heart. You don’t want to break Tyson’s heart, do you? Big guy wouldn’t even understand what had happened.”

“... I don’t,” Percy whispered. “I… I just… I don’t know. I feel like… I just want it all to stop. I’m sorry.”

Annabeth didn’t know what to say. “... It’s… well, it’s not okay. But I’m not… well, I am angry. But I understand why you’d just want it all to go away. Sometimes I do, too. I’ve never had any of those kinds of thoughts, though.”

“... Good,” Percy whispered. “... That… that hurts. A lot.”

Annabeth nodded. “... I know.”

They held each other for another few moments. Annabeth stroked Percy’s hair until she felt him relax under her fingers. Finally, they parted. Annabeth took a deep breath. “Look, Percy, I…” She sighed. “I made a promise to Chiron to keep you alive. And fuck it, I’m gonna keep you alive. I want to see you grow up in full. I want you to learn to clean up after yourself so we can get a place together in a few years.”

“Marriage?” Percy suggested, staring at the flowers. 

“Maybe someday. Not real soon.”

“Children?”

“Uh.” Annabeth laughed awkwardly. “We’ll talk about it. Later. When the time comes.”

“... Sounds nice,” Percy murmured. 

“But we’re off topic. Look, Percy, if you’re… if you’re scared you’re gonna do something drastic, don’t you fucking dare just sit on it. I know I’m not easy to talk to. Grover’s told me many times. But you’d better tell  _ someone.  _ Frank’s basically free after dinner and he’s a real good listener. Tyson would kill and die for you. Your mother might already have killed for you, but I’m not sure.”

“I’d actually rather die than worry my mom to that extreme,” Percy sighed. 

“Don’t talk to her, then. But Frank and Hazel are still here, Grover’s still here and Tyson’s still here. Oh, yeah, and I forgot. Paul’s free after three in the afternoon. And he loves you like his own son.”

Percy blinked back another prickle of tears. “... Right.”

“But if you kill yourself, I’ll bring you back to life and kill you again, you hear?”

Percy managed a small smile. He leaned in and kissed her softly. “I hear, yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First post in like a week that's not a request eyy


	166. Some Solangelo-Dragging Apollo Kids To Tartarus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not as angsty as the title makes it sound. Hades has a few choice words for his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Nico having a fucked-up nightmare, internalized homophobia, mentions of Zeus committing major sex crimes (I mean it. His actions here, although only mentioned, will upset some people. Please be careful)

“This better be our little secret, okay?” Nico grumbled as Will disentangled himself from Nico’s bed. “I don’t want to get punished or harassed for needing some post-nightmare comfort.”

Will gave Nico a soothing smile. He straightened out his shirt where it had become tangled around his body and leaned in, putting his hands on the bed. “I don’t think we’d come under too much fire, darlin’, or at least no more than any other couple, but whatever keeps you comfortable.”

Nico sat up. He tugged his fingers through his hair, trying to make it lay flat, just a little bit. Will looked so natural in the morning light, his golden curls tousled around his head. Nico was sure he couldn’t compare in the slightest. “Glad you think so. I guess… just make sure Chiron doesn’t find out. I don’t want to deal with him. I mean, I can fight someone if I have to, but it’d be harder to get him off of my case.”

Will chuckled. He studied Nico, warm longing flashing through his eyes for just a moment before he straightened up. “Right. I’ve gotta… I’ve gotta go now. Gotta go be a responsible head counselor and that.” He gave a lopsided smile. “You okay to clean yourself up pre-breakfast?”

Nico stretched. “... Yeah,” he mumbled. “See you at breakfast?”

“Of course, Death Boy,” Will smiled. He pulled on his sweatshirt, which he’d hung over the post of Nico’s bed the previous night. “See you later.”

“... See you, Will,” Nico sighed, leaning back against his pillows. 

Will left. Nico thought back to the previous night. His nightmares had been unusually fierce. He’d been back in that damned jar, slowly suffocating and dying, too weak from Tartarus to move or save himself. Then he’d been freed, except instead of Percy and Jason there to save him, it was the twins, and they had dropped him into an arena to watch as they theatrically produced another figure, equally starved and weakened, golden hair hanging dull around an abused, gaunt face. That had been when Nico broke. He couldn’t stand to see Will like that. He’d woken up choking on his own sobs, his heart hurting so badly he couldn’t breathe. Will had found him, then, shaking and sobbing, and had comforted him in the same tender way he’d always had. They’d wound up cuddling all night. Nico would never admit it, but Will gave the best hugs of anyone he’d ever met. 

A thump rang out behind him. He jolted out of his Will-induced rapture, whirling around.

“Oops,” came a familiar voice.

“Father,” Nico grumbled. Nervousness coiled in his gut. “What do you want? I was about to go clean up.” He really didn’t want to see Hades right now, try to dodge the inevitable  _ what have you been doing  _ type of conversation that would occur when Hades got into one of his more fatherly moods. Considering Hades had expressly forbidden him going back to Tartarus, and he and Will were only a month back from their Bob-saving quest, he wasn’t looking forward to any conversation with him.

“I suppose you would need it.” Hades gave a small smirk. “Is bedding with that young man I just saw particularly sweaty work?”

Nico’s face flushed. “... No. And we weren’t being lewd. He was just trying to help me.”  _ Thank the Fates. He only wants to talk about my love life. Never thought I’d say that, but here we are. _

“Ah, of course! What a pleasant thing to do.” That smirk still hadn’t faded. “So there’s nothing more between you two?”

Nico blushed from his collarbones to his hairline. “... Why do you care?”

Hades cocked his head. “Am I not allowed to…” He was cut off by an immense shrieking coming from the general area of his pocket. He looked down and sighed. “That’s my phone. I need to take this, okay?”

Nico sighed. “Go ahead.”

Hades pulled out an old flip phone and answered it. “Hello? … Oh, hey.” 

Nico could only barely hear a desperate-sounding male voice. It sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

Hades closed his eyes. “... Do I look like an animal rescue to you? No, I’m not.” His eyes shot open and became very wide. “... Excuse me? … Oh, dear Fates and Furies.” He took a deep breath. “That’s Zeus’s problem, not mine. His seed, his spawn, his issues.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry that you have to deal with this. It shouldn’t be your problem.” He paced the floor slightly. “… Yeah, yeah. I get it. He’s put you in a bind. Just ride it out. Knowing him, it won’t take more than a month or two.” A wan smile stretched on his lips. “Yeah, I’ll tell her you said hi. She’ll appreciate it. Goodbye, nephew.”

He hung up, slowly shaking his head. “I’m sorry. That was Hermes. He… yeah, things are just a tiny bit pear-shaped on Olympus right now. I suspect it won’t be long before Demeter comes to stay with us.” 

Nico cocked his head. “What’s happening?”

Hades fixed Nico with an immensely weary expression. “Son, are you sure you want to know?”

“... I’m unsure,” he sighed. “I’m deathly curious, but I know I’ll be appalled if I find out.”

“You’re correct. It’s bad,” Hades assured. He looked shaken. 

“Did somebody die?”

Hades huffed. “No.” He shifted. “Zeus, he… he has… what is the mortal word for it?  _ Screwed up?” _

“Sounds right,” Nico nodded.

“Well, if you must know, a lover of his has accused him of impregnating her Labrador, which he’d normally just shrug off as her being psychotic or some, but I think he may have actually done it this time. If it’s true, then the child would be… potentially one of the most powerful beings born in thousands of years.” Hades shook his head. “Anyway, he’s working Hermes to the bone trying to find some way to dispose of the… I don’t know if it would still qualify as a  _ puppy,  _ but…” He trailed off.

“That’s disgusting,” Nico grumbled. 

Thunder rumbled loudly overhead. Nico jumped, but Hades only nodded. “See, son,  _ my  _ bloodline has their head on straight. Makes your little desire feel so much less sinful. Anyway, according to Hermes, Zeus has locked himself in his quarters with Ganymede and Athena. No one has seen him in weeks. Athena slips correspondence to Hermes beneath the door.”

“Who’s Ganymede again?” Nico asked, sitting down, feeling shaky.

Hades cleared his throat. “... Officially, he’s Zeus’s cupbearer."

Nico nodded. “... Okay.”

“But that’s enough about him. He’s unimportant,” Hades shrugged. “Anyway Zeus’s got Athena there to help him plan next steps and Ganymede there for… stress relief, I guess. As for Hera, she has stormed from Olympus. She is nowhere to be found. Poseidon has retired to his palace beneath the sea and is not taking letters or calls. I envy him deeply.

“I feel bad for Hermes. Zeus works the poor boy to death in times like these.”

“Boy? Every time I see Hermes he looks older than you.” 

Hades shrugged. “Looks can be deceiving. He’s my nephew. He’s… what, a couple thousand years younger than me? I’ve lost count.”

Nico’s head spun. His stomach gave a small squish and he held it gently. “... Uh.”

“What is wrong?”

Nico swallowed. “... Stomach.”

Hades nodded sagely. “Mortal food is hard on the stomach. I don’t know how you stomach it day after day. Especially that McDonald’s garbage you used to eat all the time.”

Nico sighed. “... No, it’s… it’s not that. It’s not the food. I’m just…” He felt a hot sweat break across his face, neck and chest. He remembered one time that he’d had a headache after taking a whack to the head during Capture the Flag. Will had soothed it with a cold pack on his forehead. That sounded absolutely Elysian right then. He swayed. “... I’m a little… uh…” 

Hades caught him before he could pitch over. “Son?”

Nico groaned softly. 

Hades rested him in his bed, giving in to his long-time urge to push Nico’s long hair out of his eyes. Nico was pale and sweaty. His eyes were hooded and glazed. “Son? What ails you?”

Nico blinked slowly. “... Uh. What…?” He moved his head carefully, trying not to make himself dizzier than he was.  _ No way I just fainted in front of Hades. No way he just stroked my cheek.  _ “... Father. My apologies. I… this happens sometimes. I was tested and… apparently my iron levels haven’t been good ever since…” Pain flashed in his eyes and he squeezed them shut.

Hades shifted, perching himself in a nearby chair. He’d never been an emotional god. He was the least emotional god, in fact, save Thanatos himself. Seeing the sudden vulnerability in his son’s eyes--dark as night, just like his mother’s--made him feel things he was definitely not comfortable feeling. “... Well… are you treating it?”

Nico yawned. “... Yeah. I’m supposed to be on supplements, but I ran out three days ago, and I really don’t have the energy to replace them.”

“So you’re just going to allow yourself to sicken?”

Nico gave a weak laugh. “I mean, who cares? Besides Will, that is. And Will doesn’t know.”

“... Nico…” Hades gave a disappointed sigh. “Oh, my son.”

“‘M okay,” Nico insisted, sitting up slowly. “I just get dizzy sometimes. I’ll be fine.”

Hades nodded. “If you insist. And by the way, is this Will boy the one I saw you embracing earlier?”

Nico blushed warmly. “... Yes, Father.”

Hades thought. “... He is not one of my brothers’, is he?”

“No. He’s Apollo’s.”

Hades gave something akin to a cold smile. “Ah, of course. The darkness and the light, the shadows and the sun. Life and the afterlife. What a beautiful thing.” His eyes softened just the tiniest bit. “It’s my favorite kind of love story, you know.”

Nico started violently. “How did you know we were in love?”

Hades just laughed. “Oh, Nico. If you had walked in on what I walked in on, you would have had no doubt.”

Nico blushed. “... Don’t speak of this, okay? Just please, do me that favor, will you?”

Hades gave Nico a half-smirk. “Why would I speak of it? It’s not my problem.”

Nico let out a breath. “I don’t know. I was worried that… I don’t know. I’d say I wanted to keep this under wraps, but everyone knows by now, anyway, so…” He gave a shrug. “I don’t know.”

Hades snorted. “You amuse me. But that is not the point of my visit. You’ve thoroughly distracted me.” A scowl dominated his face. “My son, how could you be so  _ foolish?” _

“In… in what way?” Nico squirmed under Hades’s gaze. 

“You know in what way! I almost  _ lost  _ you to the Pit the last time you were there, and then you take your little behind  _ back  _ to that cursed place in search of  _ what?  _ A cursed  _ Titan?  _ Some titan that you and that Jackson boy wiped the memory of?”

“He tried to save my life,” Nico growled. “And he saved Percy and Annabeth too. I owe it to him.”

Hades looked more helpless than Nico had ever seen him look. “... Does your life not mean anything to you? Are you suicidal? Do you need help? What about that Solace boy? I know he came with you! That was the other reason I came, to find out why you were dragging Apollo kids to Tartarus! Well, now I know! Is he okay? Does he need help? What the hell is wrong with him?”

“He loves me and he’s too stubborn to effectively be told off?” Nico shrugged. 

“Okay, so he’s just lovestruck. But what’s wrong with  _ you?  _ Are you sick?”

Nico looked at Hades’s shoes, a pair of shiny black boots. “... Depends on what you think is an illness.”

“You know I’m not referring to that. What’s wrong with your  _ head?  _ The one that  _ thinks?” _

Nico managed a tired, wan smile. “I have a mood disorder, Father. I have a doctor’s note. It’s quite well-documented.”

“I swear, if that doctor’s note is signed by that Solace boy…” Hades looked around. “Where is it? Produce it!” 

Nico pulled a folded piece of paper from his bedside table.

Hades scanned it. “This says… this says  _ Nico di Angelo can do what he sees fit to manage his post-traumatic stress. Signed, Dr. William Solace.”  _ He slapped the paper down on the bedside table. “How the… How in Punishment did you get a doctor’s note that says  _ ‘I can do what I want’?” _

Nico flinched. He drew in on himself, swallowing. “... Begged Will. He’s the… he’s the medic here.”

Hades sighed. Surprisingly, his expression was cold and bleak, no fury present. “... You are beyond foolish, my little son. In your own way, you are noble, yes, but your foolishness and irresponsibility outweighs your nobility by a good bit. I know not by what means you survive.”

“Again, Will.”

“I suppose that boy must be a miracle worker. An irresponsible, foolish miracle worker, but a miracle worker nonetheless.” Hades took a deep breath. “Son, my rage runs deep, as does my disappointment. I thought you had been wisened by your first experience. I suppose not. If I cannot keep an eye on you myself, which I obviously cannot, I will be forced to get my dear brother to do it for me. If you’ll excuse me, I must go discuss with Chiron.”

“Dionysus gave me his blessing,” Nico blurted.

“Excuse me?”

“Dionysus gave me permission. Reluctantly, but he did. And Rachel gave us a prophecy and everything. The quest was very legitimate.” He rose up to his full height, which wasn’t much. “The only approval not given was yours, and last I checked, I didn’t need your approval to go questing.”

Hades clenched his jaw. Inky black shadows swirled around his feet, consuming his lower legs. Nico could feel his rage from where he sat on the bed. It was all he could do to stay upright. 

Finally, he spoke. “... You are correct. But it deeply angers me that you do not heed my advice, good as it is.”

_ That’s a you problem,  _ Nico thought. “My apologies, Father. It was just this once. I do not intend to disobey you on any other fronts.”

Hades only sighed. “You had better mean that.”

“I do. Swear on… Swear on the Styx, I guess.”

Hades seemed slightly pacified by that. “... Yes. Good. I will be off. Expect more of these visits, at least until I know I can trust you again.”

“Right. Keep me up to date on Zeus’s… puppy situation.”

Hades visibly shuddered. “Oh, don’t remind me of that when I’m already angry. Yes, I will. If you see Hermes, encourage him to rest. Zeus works him to the bone. I’m not a pitying man, but even I’m starting to feel for the little bird.” Shadows swirled up around Hades, almost consuming him. “Goodbye, son.”

“... Bye, Dad,” Nico sighed.


	167. Solangelo-Heart Owie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sally's home alone when she hears a knock at the door. Turns out Nico needs a favor.
> 
> (TOWER OF NERO SPOILERS BELOW)
> 
> My take on what happens immediately after Will and Nico rescue Bob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tower of Nero spoilers. Warnings for very mild catatonia, the gods are a little sketch, there's a scene where Will is in his underwear (but all the important stuff stays covered), mild injuries, mentions of depression/PTSD and the like. Also, there's a scene where Cecil force-feeds Nico, but Nico straight up dares him to, so...

It was a warm evening in July when someone knocked on Sally’s door. 

_ That’s strange,  _ she wondered.  _ Paul’s not supposed to be home yet.  _ She opened the door to the apartment. “Hello, who…  _ Nico?” _

Nico met her eyes. He looked terrible. He looked even skinnier and frailer than the last time she’d seen him, somehow. He was dirty. His black camp tee shirt was ripped and shredded. He was covered in scratches, a hastily tied bandage covered his calf. He was holding the hand of another boy, a tall blond who looked completely shellshocked. Behind them was an older-looking gentleman in what looked to be a janitor’s uniform. Nico gave her a small, yet polite smile. “Hey, Mrs. Jackson. Can I make a call?”

“Who are your friends here?” Sally asked, scanning the party of three carefully.

Nico looked over at the blond. “Oh. Yeah. This is Will. That’s Bob behind us.”

Sally finally nodded. She beckoned them inside and they followed dutifully. Nico carefully sat Will in a chair in their kitchen and slipped into her bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

“Who does he need to call?” Sally asked, looking over at Will.

Will didn’t respond. He didn’t even twitch. 

Bob shrugged. “Don’t know. Didn’t say.” He looked at the other chair longingly. 

“You can sit down if you want,” Sally said. “No one’s stopping you.”

Bob sat. He fixed Sally with a grateful expression. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Sally nodded. “Would either of you like something to eat?”

Bob’s eyes widened. “Would like that. Thank you.”

Sally put out some seven-layer dip. Bob dug in enthusiastically, but Will didn’t even budge. “Will, honey? Can you hear me? Blink twice if you can hear me.”

Will gave two long, slow blinks.

“Good, good. Are you hungry? Blink once for no, twice for yes.”

One blink. 

Sally scanned Will. His eyes were haunted. He was rubbing the bone on his wrist mindlessly, biting his lips. He had a small abrasion on his chin that looked like it had been poorly cleaned, if it had been cleaned at all. “... May I help you with that scratch? Again, blink once for no, twice for yes.”

A long pause, two blinks and a tear rolled down his cheek.

“Okay, baby,” she cooed. “Here, let me clean up that chin wound a little.” She wet a paper towel and gently wiped off the wound on his chin. A reddish brown crust wiped off on the towel when she cleaned the scrape. She grabbed a bandage from the hall closet and put it over his chin. “Is that better?”

Will’s eyes focused for the first time, making contact with hers. His eyes were vivid blue and hazy and, somewhere beneath all the hauntedness, looked soft and sweet. He gave a tiny nod. 

“Good,” she murmured. “Are there any other wounds that need tending?”

Will shrugged. He looked away. 

“Okay, sweetie. Just tell me if you need anything, okay? You’re safe here. I promise.”

Will’s eyes shone with wetness. He blinked, sniffling quietly. 

“Hey,” Sally whispered. “Don’t cry.” She extended her hand and brushed it over his cheek. He flinched, then settled into the touch, taking her hand in a vicelike grip. His fingers were trembling. Sally suddenly had a flashback to when Percy would wake up with nightmares, lashing out in terror and fear before grabbing her hand with the intensity of a child. She didn’t think she’d ever forget the way he had cried.

Will pulled her hand to his chest and gently fiddled her fingers between his, rolling the skin over the knuckles gently. His hands were warm and his fingers were gentle, something else that reminded her of Percy. They even had similar hands. 

_ Damn.  _ Sally didn’t even have a fully empty nest. She was practically a new mom again. Why was Percy’s departure hitting her so hard? Percy had been gone before. She knew how to live without him. Why now was the only thing she craved the warm embrace of her son?

Bob broke the silence by belching loudly. Sally started out of her soft reverie and looked over at him. Bob blushed a little. “Sorry. Food was good.”

Sally couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you.” She started when she realized that Bob had finished the bowl of dip. “Gods above us, you were hungry.”

Bob’s eyes grew dim and haunted. “It has been a long time.”

Sally looked at him sympathetically. “Do you need anything more?”

“No.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “Should I pay you back?”

A laugh bubbled up from Sally’s chest. “No, I don’t take payment. I don’t need money.”  _ What am I saying? Of course I need money. I’ve needed money my entire life.  _

Bob seemed to accept it. He swiped his finger over the now-empty bowl of dip and licked it, smiling at her agreeably. 

Sally shook her head, smiling. What a strange man. How had Nico found these two? Well, at least he had friends now. It was nice to see Nico caring for someone. Maybe even being cared for by someone. 

Nico returned at that moment, as if summoned. He watched Will stroke Sally’s fingers with his typical soft touch, his fingers shaking slightly. “... Hey.”

“Nico,” Sally greeted. “How are you doing?”

“Don’t ask me that,” Nico sighed. “You don’t want to know the answer. Anyway, Will, can you hear me?”

Will nodded slowly. 

“Okay. I called Cecil. He’ll be here as soon as he can.”

Will’s lip trembled slightly, but he didn’t really respond. 

“Was that the wrong thing to do?”

Will shook his head. 

“Good.” Nico sighed and flopped in a chair next to Will. “How’s he doing? Could you get him to say anything to you?”

“I’m sorry.” Sally gently rubbed Will’s knuckles, squeezing his hand. “He didn’t say anything to me.”

Nico puffed his cheeks. “Okay. That’s… I’m concerned. I mean, he’s not necessarily a chatterbox or anything, but he’s not normally  _ mute,  _ you know?”

“No, this is extreme,” Sally replied. “I can tell. He’s not… he’s in a bad place right now. I can tell.”

Nico pressed his lips together, nodding tersely. “I just hope Cecil gets here soon. He’s usually pretty good at comforting him.”

“Good,” Sally murmured. She put a hand on Will’s back, causing him to flinch violently again before glancing over at her and relaxing, leaning slightly into her touch and closing his eyes. 

  
  
  
  
  


It wasn’t long before there was a knock at the door. 

Nico answered it. Cecil grinned at him from the other side. “Nico! Holy shit, bro, you have no idea how relieved I was to hear that you were all right.”

Nico barely managed a smile. “Yeah, we’re… we’re a bit beaten and bloodied, but we’ll live. Will’s just… he’s not in a good way. He hasn’t said anything since… since we…” A haunted expression took over Nico’s face. “... I don’t know if I…”

“It’s okay if you can’t talk about it right now. We’ve got time,” Cecil shrugged. 

“Thanks,” Nico nodded. Cecil entered the apartment, making a beeline for Will when he saw him sitting by the table. He whisked Will off down the hallway to talk privately with only a small nod to Sally and they vanished. 

Lou Ellen half-melted out of the shadows and grabbed Nico in a hug. Nico jolted before melting into her arms, tears stinging at his eyes. Shivers took over his body and she rubbed circles on his back, murmuring in his ear. “Shh, shh, shh. I’ve got you. You’re safe. It’s okay.”

Nico pulled away after a moment, wiping his eyes. “... Thanks,” he whispered. “I… I needed that.”

Lou put an arm around his thin waist. “No problem, Neeks. Come on. Let’s go.”

Nico leaned into Lou’s touch as she invited them inside. She deposited Nico in a chair and crammed in next to him on said chair, suddenly noticing that Sally was there. “Oh, hey.”

“Are you…?”

“Lou Ellen.”

“Sally,” Sally greeted. “Nice to meet you.”

Lou Ellen shrugged. “Yeah. Sure. You too.” She looked around. “Nice place you got here.”

“Thanks!” Sally replied, giving a genuine smile. 

“No problem.” 

Nico leaned his head into Lou Ellen’s shoulder and whispered “Don’t.”

Lou chuckled. She put her arms around Nico and sighed. “You okay?”

“Again, don’t. Please. I don’t want to cry in front of everybody.”

Lou Ellen only nodded. She stroked his hair, matted and dirty from a few days’ without washing. Sally silently busied herself in the kitchen, trying to give Nico and Lou their privacy. They sank into a fragile silence. 

  
  


Cecil came out alone.

“How’s Will?” Lou Ellen asked immediately.

“How do you think?” Cecil flopped heavily in the one remaining chair. “Guy can’t even talk right right now. He’s one step above catatonic. He can barely speak to me. And you know what fucks me up? The fact that as soon as he can speak in complete fucking sentences people are gonna be expecting him to be all happy and normal again. Like, I know Will--and Apollo kids in general, for that matter--have a reputation for resilience, but it’s ridiculous to expect Will to be complete and happy all the time. Especially after this.”

Nico bit his lip. “... Do you think... do you think he’ll ever be okay?”

Cecil sighed. “As I said, Will is incredibly resilient. He’s made it through stuff that would drive ninety percent of the population to suicide. But in all honesty, he wasn’t okay  _ before.  _ This obviously didn’t help. So no, I don’t think Will is okay. Do I think he’ll  _ be  _ okay? Maybe. He’ll improve. He’ll get better. But I don’t think he’ll ever really be  _ okay.” _

Nico shrunk in on himself. “... I’m sorry. I never should have allowed him to come on this mission.”

Cecil lay a hand on Nico’s shoulder. “Look, man, wild horses couldn’t have kept him away. Will’s an angel. If someone he loves is putting themselves in danger, he’s coming with. To make them better. To try and keep them safe. No one blames you for Will’s nature, okay?”

Nico nodded. “Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem,” Cecil nodded. “I’m gonna go get him. I think we need to get out of here. No offense to her--” Cecil inclined his head in Sally’s direction, “--but I think Will needs to be home. I think it would do him better to be in more familiar territory. Also… Chiron’s gonna want to see Bob. Also also, it’s getting dark. We’re already in the zone where we miss dinner--”

“--Would you like me to send you with food? I can make sandwiches,” Sally cut in.

Cecil started. “That’s real nice of you, but I think we’re good. I’ve got food. I was just gonna say that we didn’t want to miss campfire and curfew as well.”

Sally gave a small smile. “Got it. Tell me if you change your mind, okay? I don’t mind cooking, I promise.”

“Thank you, of course.” Cecil gave a tense nod. “I’ll go get Will. Be right back.” He paced quickly back to the bathroom and was back in just a moment, leading a red-eyed and sniffling Will by the hand. “All right. Here’s our boy.”

Lou Ellen rose up, disentangling herself from the half-cuddle that she and Nico had been in. She took Will in a hug, squeezing him tightly, leaning her ear to his chest, listening to his beating heart. Will’s arms trembled as he held her back and he made a sound that sounded half like a cry, half like a rusty groan. 

Cecil wrapped his arms around them both. He had nothing to say as Will leaned into him. He had nothing to say as Will began audibly crying for the first time since they’d returned. He had nothing to say when Nico joined the embrace, or when Bob, who he’d barely noticed before, stroked back Will’s curls with a soft “very big heart owie.”

The words didn’t come until after they’d bid a quiet goodbye to Sally Jackson. Nico had bid her goodbye and they’d left in silence. Then he’d been able to speak, thick and choking and almost teary in his own right. “Can we stop pretending that we’re all fucking fine?”

Nico turned from where he’d been talking to Bob. “I don’t know. I mean, if we’re collapsing into screaming fits all over the place, that would scare the little kids, right? I mean, I scare them just by existing. I really don’t want to make that worse.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean that we all just go about our days, like, tomorrow we’re gonna wake up in our separate cabins and meet each other for breakfast and talk and laugh and shoot the shit and then we’re gonna separate to our various activities even though we’re all dying inside and just want to curl up and sleep for a month. We don’t talk about it. We don’t ask each other about it. We don’t think about it at all when Will wakes up at three AM and goes to the infirmary because he’s convinced he’s letting people die. We don’t ask about it if Nico doesn’t eat for a day or two. We don’t ask about the screams that come from Cabin Thirteen at night. We don’t ask about it if Lou Ellen doesn’t leave her cabin for a few days, or if she’s hoarding broken glass, or knives, or razor blades, or whatever. We don’t ask if Miranda throws up the fifty calories worth of food she consumes in a day, or if Kayla has panic attacks every time she has to cross a bridge, or if Austin can’t play Capture the Flag with us half the time because he can’t go into the forest some nights. We don’t ask about any of that. And I think we fucking should. Because it won’t be long until one of us  _ succeeds  _ in krumping ourselves and then what will we say? ‘I should have done something! I should have listened more!’” Cecil heaved a breath, barely feeling the tears that gathered in the rims of his eyes. “And I don’t want that! I don’t want to burn another fucking friend! I’ve attended more funerals for friends than I have friends! Gods damn us all!” 

Cecil gulped back a sob as Will wrapped shaky arms around him, wiping his eyes with trembling fingers. He squeezed Will as tightly as he could possibly manage and whispered, “... thanks, buddy.”

Will didn’t respond, just let go when Cecil had regained control of himself. 

The gratitude nearly burst Cecil’s heart. 

  
  


The rest of the walk was quiet. Once they reached the street, Cecil slipped behind the wheel of one of the old camp vans. Lou Ellen threw herself into the passenger seat, her feet up on the dashboard. 

“You have your license?” Nico asked, loading in the back next to Will. Bob climbed in behind him, Small Bob crawling out of his pocket and peering at the unfamiliar scenery.

“I can drive,” Cecil sighed. “Travis taught Connor and I before he left for college.”

“Did Mr. D let you borrow the van?”

“Mr. D doesn’t know we’re here,” Cecil shrugged. “And if he does, he doesn’t care.”

“So you stole the van. And you’re also probably driving unlicensed.”

“No comment. Do you want this ride or not?”

Lou Ellen interjected with an elegant, “Shut up and drive.”

Cecil shut up and drove.

  
  


They arrived at camp just as the sun slipped below the horizon. 

Chiron was waiting for them. His tail twitched as Bob climbed from the van. Surprisingly, he greeted Nico first. “Mr. di Angelo.”

“Chiron.”

Chiron scanned the party of five for a few moments. Finally, he said, “Cecil, Lou Ellen, get Will comfortable in the infirmary and get Kayla to check on his wounds. Nico, Bob, Mr. D and I want to talk to you. Come along at once.”

It hurt Nico’s heart to walk away from Will while he was in such a state, but he forced his legs to move. He trailed Chiron to the Big House porch, where Mr. D was nursing a Diet Coke. He sat across from Mr. D and leaned his chin on the table.

“So,” Dionysus started. “Not that I care, but how are you?”

“Battered. Bruised. Tired,” Nico admitted.  _ And I’ve felt like crying for, like, two days now. But that’s not important. _

“So the quest was successful?”

“Quest was successful.” 

Chiron pursed his lips. “... Ah… about that success… the gods have decided that they want Bob to visit them tomorrow. They… apparently, there’s a bit of a question about his… well…  _ past.”  _

“... Percy shoved him in the Lethe. He doesn’t remember a damn thing of his past,” Nico growled.

Bob suddenly became very interested in watching Small Bob chase moths. 

“While that may be true,” Chiron interjected gently, “Zeus has decided to air on the side of caution. And I do not think that is unwise. I have heard the stories from Percy and Annabeth, as well as yourself, and I do not think Bob is malicious now. He will sleep in the Big House tonight. Tomorrow at first light, Dionysus will take him to Olympus.”

“And since I’m nothing if not kind and generous, I’ll let you tag along, if you’d like,” Dionysus interjected.

Nico huffed. “... I’ll think about it. I doubt the gods would listen to my arguments regarding Bob, so...”

Dionysus shrugged. “Your choice. I understand it if you don’t want to be there.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Hey, how about I dress you up in a leopard skin and you can go in my place? Just constantly talk about how you’d like to be released from your punishment and get sulky when Zeus says no. Easiest thing in the world, really.”

Nico blanched. “... I’d rather not.”

“I was joking. Zeus would be able to tell in an instant. Either way, it sounds like we have a plan.” Dionysus stood up and stretched, revealing more gut than Nico would have liked to see. “Chiron, take Bob to his room. Nico, you are free to go. If I were you, I’d seek some medical help for those wounds. They could infect if you’re not careful, and that would be a dreadfully anticlimactic way to go.”

“Will do,” Nico sighed. He slipped inside the Big House and made his way to the infirmary, the hallway dark and quiet in the night. A window air-conditioning unit whirred just a little too loudly, still not managing to cool the hallway more than just a tiny bit. He slipped into the well-lit infirmary. Kayla had Will sitting on the side of a bed as she wiped over the crusty, oozing cuts that covered his chest. Nico blushed. Will was only in his underwear, a sheet over his lap. Cecil sat beside him, an arm around his waist. Will’s eyes were red and puffy. He was sniffling slightly.

“... Hey,” Nico greeted, feeling fully awkward.

Kayla turned. “Hey. Austin’s washing his hands, then he’ll be available to clean and bandage your wounds. Lou Ellen’s getting Will’s special blanket.”

“... How’s Will doing?”

“He had a breakdown when I went to take his shirt off to clean the wounds. I mean, serious breakdown. Crying, screaming, hitting, the works. Cecil had to calm him down. He wouldn’t even recognize anyone else. We only just got him calm enough to be bandaged when you walked in.”

Nico took a deep breath. “... I should have kept him at home. I  _ really, really  _ should have kept him at home.”

“Don’t go there. He would have chased you. And frankly, he’d have hurt himself worse if that was what had happened. If anything, he was safer going with you.” Kayla shook her head. 

Nico watched as Kayla silently finished cleaning his wounds and went to rub them over with ambrosia. When she finished, she wrapped them all in clean white gauze and stood up. She reached out and stroked Will’s hair with a gentle hand. “... I love you,” she murmured. “And I’m really fucking sorry it had to turn out this way.”

Will looked at her as if he hadn’t really realized that she was there until that moment. “... Kay?”

Nico started. Will’s voice sounded painful and rusty, but it was  _ there,  _ and it was the first time he’d heard him speak since Nico had slew the arai that had ambushed him as soon as Nico had turned his back. Will had been no match for them. He’d collapsed immediately into a deep sleep, and only with Bob’s help had Nico been able to defeat them and get Will out of there. The moments when both Bob and the troggs had been trying to wake Will had been some of the most terrifying of Nico’s life. He’d woken up screaming and sobbing and begging for mercy from some unknown force, and he hadn’t settled until Nico, in desperation and fear, had grabbed on to him and refused to let go. He’d taken him to Sally Jackson’s place because he knew it was close and relatively peaceful, and that he could send an Iris-message from there and get Cecil to send them a ride. He didn’t dare shadow-travel Will when he was so emotionally fragile. 

And now he was speaking again.

Nico blinked back the tears that were  _ so, so  _ close to breaking free and grabbed Will’s hand, leaning in to look him in the eyes. “Will, I’m so sorry.”

Will only shook his head. He leaned against Kayla’s chest and she moved to hold him. They collapsed on the bed in a tangle of limbs, Will’s face buried in Kayla’s neck. Austin returned from the bathroom at that moment, saw his siblings on the bed and exclaimed, “hug time?”

“Only for us,” Kayla replied. “You can join once you make sure Nico’s not secretly bleeding out or something.”

“You’re a cruel wench, Miss K,” Austin sighed. 

“Will bandaged my wounds,” Nico interjected. “And Bob has healing powers. I’m fine. It’s Will we need to worry about. He was… he was too worried about me to let anyone look at his wounds.”  _ … and the trogs kicked us out before he could get bandaged, and he flinched away from Bob when he tried to touch him… _

The three Apollo kids and Cecil all looked at him with worried eyes. “... Okay,” Austin finally said. “Well, if you change your mind, then let us know. Don’t try and hide your wounds just for the sake of hiding them. We have enough resources and more than enough affection to make stuff better.”

Nico swallowed thickly. “... I know,” he murmured. “Thank you so much for that. You don’t know how much that means. You really don’t.”

Cecil held out his arms. It took Nico a moment to realize Cecil wanted to hug him. He shivered as he tucked himself against Cecil’s body, the tears beginning to get a little harder to hold. 

Austin put his hand on Nico’s back and rubbed soothing circles there. “How are you holding up?”

Nico opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“It’s okay if you need to cry,” Cecil mumbled. “I’ve got you.”

Cecil held him a little tighter when he felt cool drops hit his collarbone. 

  
  


Lou Ellen opened the door a few moments later, a thick knitted blanket in her arms. 

“... Guys, I’ve got the… oh.” She glanced over the crowd, at Will’s still-mostly-unclothed body tangled in Kayla’s arms, at Nico with his face buried in Cecil’s collar. “Is everything… okay?”

Kayla raised her head, her eyes filled with a presence they hadn’t had before. “Here, bring the blanket. Will needs it.”

“... He does,” Lou Ellen agreed. She draped the blanket over Will’s lanky frame, tucking it around his shoulders. “Poor guy looks awful.”

Will whimpered and pressed his face deeper into Kayla’s shoulder. 

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you,” Kayla soothed. “It’s okay. Lou, will you get Will some pajamas from the cabin?”

Lou Ellen nodded. “Got it. Be right back.” She slipped out the door.

Cecil nuzzled Nico’s hair. “Is it okay if I put you down? I think… I’m gonna go make some food.”

Nico raised his head from Cecil’s shoulder. “Cupcakes?”

“No. Not now. I’m not having the first thing you eat in days be sugary.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m gonna eat,” Nico grumbled as Cecil set him down on the bed. 

“You’re gonna eat if I have to force-feed you. Just because Will’s my best friend doesn’t mean I have his gentle touch.”

“I dare you,” Nico huffed.

“Dare accepted.” Cecil turned on his heel and left the room.

Nico sighed. He turned and put a hand on Will’s leg, gently rubbing the ankle from where it poked out from under the blanket. “Will? Can you speak to me?”

“... Nico,” he mumbled. “... How did I get home?”

“I took you to a safehouse I know and called Cecil from there,” Nico sighed. “Do you really not remember any of that?”

“... I remember waking up and the trogs were there. Then… you led me somewhere and there was a nice lady who held my hand and put a Band-Aid on my chin. She made food but I didn’t want to move to eat it. Cecil arrived and we talked but I don’t remember what we talked about. I think… I think he might have been crying, Nico, is Cecil okay?”

“Cecil’s fine. He just got overwhelmed by the circumstances. He cares about you is all. I’m just concerned, do you feel okay?”

Will shook his head.

“Physical or emotional?”

Will nodded.

Nico almost laughed. “... I wish… Will, when you were attacked by the--”

“--No.” Will sounded desperate. “No. Not now. Not ready. Please. I love you. Please no.”

Nico held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. Not now. I get it. I love you, too.”

Lou Ellen returned. “Did I hear Will talking?”

“Our boy is talking again,” Kayla confirmed. “Also, our boy needs to dress himself because it’s getting really fucking awkward to hug him like this.”

“Point taken,” Will responded. He slowly rose off of Kayla and stood up, retrieving the clothes Lou Ellen had brought--a plain black sweatshirt and a pair of flannel pants with little Death Stars on them. “Thank you so much, guys. It means a lot.”

Kayla shook her head. “No problem, buddy.”

Will slipped into the bathroom to dress. Kayla sighed and sat up, pushing Will’s blanket out of the way. “Well, that became a big fuckin’ deal.”

Nico held out his hands and she grasped them. “Thank you for dealing with it,” he said intently. “It means a lot to me and I know it means a lot to Will. You’re the best siblings he could ever ask for. I mean that.”

A look of deep sadness flickered over Kayla’s face before she willed it away, hugging Nico tightly. “... Thank you so much.”

Nico patted her back. “‘S okay,” he murmured. “You’re good.”

Kayla pulled away. “Thanks,” she murmured. 

Cecil came back, balancing a tray on his hand like a waiter. “Do our boys want soup?”

“Will’s in the bathroom, but yeah, he’s probably hungry,” Nico affirmed. 

Cecil put the tray down. “Yes, but Nico, are you hungry?”

“No, I… ah!” Cecil and Lou both grabbed him hard and slammed him to the bed as Kayla jumped out of the way. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You dared me to make you eat,” Cecil explained. He pushed the mouth of a bottle to Nico’s mouth, pulling his jaw open. A hot, savory liquid flooded Nico’s throat. “So I’m making you eat.”

It was all Nico could do not to choke. He gulped the fluid down, stinging in his throat. He felt his stomach bulge out as it filled with soup. He struggled, but Cecil was holding him down. Lou Ellen was sitting on his legs, her weight pressing against his shins. He couldn’t kick at all. 

“What are you  _ doing _ ?” Will’s voice pierced through all the din in the room. “Get off of him!” He pulled Cecil away from Nico, hot soup trickling down his cheek and dripping on the pillow. “He could have choked to death!” Will took Nico in his arms, cradling him against his soft chest. He picked up his blanket and draped it around Nico’s body, curling him into a little burrito. 

Nico melted into the warmth. The blanket was silky soft, Will’s arms were sturdy. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“In my defense, he did dare me to do it,” Cecil defended. 

Will sighed. “You’re both impossible. Drink your… what is this? Chicken broth?”

“Chicken noodle soup. I made it,” Cecil replied proudly. 

“What, like…” 

“From scratch.”

“Nice,” Will nodded. 

“Here, you should eat,” Cecil insisted. “You weren’t in a mode to eat before. I think getting something in your stomach will be good for you.” He pushed a bowl into Will’s hands.

Will gave a small smile. “... Yeah.” He took a bite. “Mh. You did a really good job. Here, Nico, you should have some too.” He extended the half-empty bottle to Nico.

Nico took it, downing a few sips, enjoying it fully for the first time.  _ Damn.  _ It  _ was  _ good.

“Seriously, how is it, Nico?” Cecil asked. 

“It sucks,” Nico shot back. 

Cecil visibly deflated. “... Does it really?” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Will cut in. “There’s no problems with it. It tastes fine. Nico’s just trying to get at you, that’s all.”

A chuckle escaped Cecil’s lips. “Good. Good.”

Nico stared at the ground, taking more small sips. His stomach still didn’t feel great. Even when he ate consistently, he’d never eaten that much. Having a lot of material in there at once was foreign and uncomfortable. 

He put aside the soup bottle and melted a little closer into Will. Will gave him a gentle squeeze. He nuzzled Will’s soft chest, listening to his heart stirring underneath the surface. He blinked back another round of tears. Will smelled nice, like citrus and smoke, and his sweater had been freshly laundered. He could feel Will’s chest vibrating intermittently as he spoke, even though he wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. Maybe words of endearment, maybe he and Cecil were arguing. 

There was a knock on the doorframe.  _ “Ahem.” _

“Mr. D,” Kayla greeted. “We’ve bandaged Will and got him speaking again. Cecil put some food in their bellies and--”

“I don’t care,” Mr. D interrupted. “Curfew is in five. You little urchins need to get back to your cabins.”

“Will and Nico should stay here for tonight. Just in case some sort of Tartarian disease comes over them,” Austin cut in. He gestured to Nico, who had slipped out of Will’s arms to lean against his shoulder. 

“Do whatever.” Dionysus waved his hand. “I don’t care.”

“I need to stay here, too,” Lou Ellen cut in. “I have a near-lethal case of depression.”

“Okay. Stay here for tonight. Tomorrow, meet me at breakfast and we will discuss your suicidal ideations over waffles. Rest of you, go back to your cabins.  _ Now.” _

Cecil cleared his throat. “I have a crippling, disfiguring infection.  _ Propionibacterium acnes.  _ It’s fatal within days.”

Dionysus scowled at him. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I despise Hermes kids. Fine. Stay. Damn you, I already had a headache.” He shook his head. “Do any of the rest of Shiny’s spawn here have any ridiculous, garbage reasons why you should stay here tonight, as opposed to your cabins?”

“No, they don’t,” Will cut in before any of the others could speak. 

“Wonderful. Thank the Fates. First kind thing they’ve ever done for me.” Dionysus shook his head and poofed into a whirl of leaves. 

Will turned to Cecil. “Really? Acne?”

Cecil shrugged. “I only remember the names of, like, four bacterial strains, and the rest of them would be even less appropriate.”

“You’re bullshit,” Will sighed. 

Cecil gave him a double thumbs up. 

Kayla scowled at Will. “Why don’t you want us to stay here?”

“Because Jerry and Gracie and Yan need you guys there,” Will shrugged. “One of the older campers needs to stay with them, and if it can’t be me, then it’s gotta be you two.”

“ _ One  _ of us,” Kayla grumped.  _ “One.” _

“I don’t like it when Austin does infirmary work, and Kayla, if you stay here, you won’t sleep a wink, and I won’t stand for that. You both go to bed,” Will nagged.

Kayla looked at Will for a long time. She put her archery-strengthened hands on his shoulders. “Will you please,  _ please  _ promise me that you’ll come and get me if something goes wrong? Like, if you start feeling ill, or if you’re distressed, or if you have some sort of terrible nightmare? _ Please?”  _

Will gave her a small smile. “... Sure.”

Kayla grabbed him in a hug. She didn’t respond. Austin joined and Will buried his face between their heads. Kayla’s silky hair tickled his cheek, their bodies were warm against his. “... I missed you,” Will whispered. “I missed you two so much.”

When they parted, Austin’s eyes were wet.

“I’m… I’m out,” Austin whispered. “I need a shower. And… and maybe… I don’t know.”

Will took a breath. He put his hand on Austin’s shoulder. “Hey.”

Austin turned to him. 

“I’m okay,” Will assured. “I’m not gonna die. Don’t cry for me, okay?”

Austin nodded resolutely. “... I’m gonna go cry about… other things. Like… the girl I liked a few months back. The one who turned out to be a les--” Austin choked on his words, breaking into harsh gagging coughs.

Will patted his back. “I don’t need to know what you do in the shower, dude. Cry, wank, whatever, I don’t care. It’s cool. Now go. I don’t want to patch up the results of a harpy attack tonight.”

Austin nodded. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and stood up, walking to the door. “Goodnight, man.”

“Goodnight, Austin. Sweet dreams, both of you, okay?”

Kayla and Austin nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

They left. Will sighed. “... I hope he’ll be okay.”

Nico put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s tougher than you give him credit for. Don’t worry too much.”

“... I’ll try not to,” Will nodded. He put his arms back around Nico, as if it hurt him to break contact with Nico for too long. 

Nico gently took his hand, stroking the knuckles. Will leaned his head into Nico’s shoulder, taking a deep breath.

“I can’t smell that good, you know,” Nico sighed. “I haven’t showered in four days.”

“... You smell like dirt,” Will mumbled. “In a nice way, though. Like… fresh earth and stuff.”

“You’re weird,” Nico complained.

“No, just in love,” Will sighed. He held Nico a little tighter. “... I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Nico sighed. Will was warm against his back. It was making him sleepy. “... I’m so glad you’re okay as well.”

Cecil flopped heavily down on the bed behind them. “I’m tired.”

“I don’t want to have nightmares,” Nico sighed. “Besides, I’m… I’m really annoying to sleep around. I wake up screaming and shaking.”

“So do the rest of us,” Lou Ellen grumbled.

“Look, Nico, it’s okay,” Will soothed. He put a kiss on Nico’s neck, making Nico’s eyelids flutter in pleasure. “If you have a nightmare, we’ll help you out. I promise.”

Nico didn’t say anything for a few moments. He stroked Will’s hands some more, rubbing his fingers gently over the knuckles, feeling the warmth, the healing energy that blazed within, like a flame that couldn’t be extinguished. It was too hard for him to say what he wanted to say. It was too hard to ask for Will to stay and hold him.

“... Thanks,” Nico murmured. “It means a lot.”

“No prob,” Will nodded. He snuggled Nico a little closer. “Also, Lou, are you like… okay? I mean, do you need a hug or something?”

Lou Ellen laughed, but there was no humor in her tone. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Will sighed gently. “... Well, if you’re in pain, please, come and find me. I don’t want you to suffer, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, lying down on a nearby bed and curling up. “I don’t need this bullshit anymore.”

Will held his hands up. “Okay, okay. I just love you, that’s all. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“Love you too, man,” Lou mumbled weakly.

Will made a hum of nerves and sadness, but said nothing. He closed his eyes, resting the full weight of his head on Nico’s shoulder. 

“You tired?” Nico asked.

“Mm.”

“You wanna go to sleep?”

Will grunted in the negative.

“Nightmares? Bad visions?”

“Mhm,” Will affirmed.

Cecil put an arm around Will’s waist. “You wanna cuddle, bro?”

“... Yeah,” Will managed.

Nico moved off of Will’s lap, letting him curl up in Cecil’s arms. Cecil looped one of his legs over Will’s waist, pulling him tight into his arms. Will hummed contentedly. He took a moment to enjoy Cecil’s arms, the feeling of that unconditional friendship. His chest felt suddenly cold and bare. He extended his arms to Nico, searching for the remedy, wanting comfort.

Nico blushed. “Are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t it help? You know, just helping you know that… you’re safe?  _ We’re  _ safe?”

Nico sighed. He lay down, pressing himself into Will as Will lay his arm over his waist, cupping his head with the other hand. “... I suppose it would,” he grumbled. 

Will laughed, sending vibrations through Nico’s cheek. 

“Lou, turn off the lights,” Cecil whined. “It’s too bright.”

Lou groaned loudly, but did as Cecil asked. She left the lights in the bathroom and the private rooms on. Nico’s eyelids slipped shut as soon as the lights were dimmed. Will gently rubbed the small of his spine, the pulsing pressure melting the tension from Nico’s body. He only barely heard Lou Ellen scraping around in the background, only barely felt it when Lou wrapped her arms around his back in a soft cuddle. In the darkness between waking and sleep, he thought he felt a pair of lips softly brush his cheek, a beard tickle right below. 

When he forced his eyes open, no one was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you may be asking where I've been the last, like, two or three weeks. Or you may not be. I know a lot of you probably don't care about my life that much. Turns out, I haven't been doing anything interesting. American Thanksgiving happened, then I got super down for like two weeks and couldn't write anything of note. Then I read some of the D&D books I hadn't yet and that ate about two days. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope this was all right. I'm not super proud of it, but it's okay, I guess. And it ends kind of fluffily, so it's not too heavy on the angst, which is a complaint I've gotten in the past.
> 
> Also, this song kind of reminds me of Solangelo. Give it a listen, maybe, if you want. https://youtu.be/1ZUwTzlYE7c


	168. Some Solangelo-What Would Percy Do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gods meet to decide Bob's fate. Nico comes to argue for his friend. Sort of a sequel to the last chapter. Quick reminder that Nico never *refuses* to go to Olympus for Bob's judgement, he only says he'll *think* about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request fill for Glloyd45! I know this isn't exactly a one-on-one between Nico and a god or goddess he wouldn't normally speak to, but it was my best idea, so... 
> 
> Warnings for Zeus being himself, mentions of death, memory wiping, kidnapping mention.

“Soooo,” Zeus drawled, giving a bored sigh. “Is everyone more or less ready to start?”

There were nods all around. Nico looked up at Bob. Bob was staring at the floor of the Olympian Hall, looking like he wanted to run. He was twisting his fingers around each other, shaking slightly. 

“Good,” Zeus grumbled. “Anyway, addressing the Titan in the room.” He laughed slightly at his own joke, looking to Poseidon for approval. 

Poseidon slumped in his throne, made a face like he was in pain, and broke into exaggeratedly fake laughter. 

Zeus scowled at him. “If you never exited the sea again, it would be too soon.”

“Thank you,” Poseidon smiled.

“Either way,” Zeus grumbled. “Bob. Or more like ‘The Titan Formerly Known as Iapetus’. I’m almost fascinated to know, what’s the story here?”

Nico straightened up. “Bob tried to fight Percy, Thalia and I. Percy threw him into the Lethe. He lost all his memories and was thrown into the depths of Tartarus. When I was down there, he was still minus the memory, and I was able to convince him to help me. There was some other junk with he and Percy and Annabeth, and then Will and I returned the favor that he did for me by rescuing him. That’s about it.”

“So he remembers nothing,” Zeus confirmed. 

“... I am sorry,” Bob cut in softly. “... That’s untrue. I… I remember everything. I am sorry. I couldn’t… I couldn’t lie anymore.”

“So you’re a threat, and you admit it yourself.”

Bob hugged himself, swaying back and forth. He managed a nod.

Nico looked up and saw that his eyes were wet. “He’s not a threat!” he yelped, shadows blasting around his feet. “Bob’s changed! He swore to me that he’s changed! Swore on the Styx and everything!” Nico’s voice crescendoed into a shout, cracking and squeaking as he yelled.

Zeus turned his eyes to him, dead, cold… bored. “And what will the Styx do if he draws a weapon and kills us all?”

Nico shrunk in on himself. “... Make him suffer severely? Kill his loved ones? Put him through terrible, terrible pain? Change Fate to give him the worst of pain?”

Zeus raised his eyebrows slightly. “Styx has the ear of the Fates?”

“Yes,” Nico blurted. “Or she has some sway over it. Apollo can attest. He broke a Stygian promise and suffered terribly for it.”

Zeus looked over at Apollo.

“... He’s right,” Apollo whispered. “I couldn’t save Jason. I couldn’t save Money Maker. I couldn’t save Dakota or Don the Faun. I couldn’t keep Luguselwa immortal, or have her keep her hands. I almost died in the Burning Maze and then again--”

“Spare me.” Zeus waved his hand dismissively. “We all got the point after ‘he’s right.’”

“I’m sorry.” Apollo’s voice was barely audible.

Zeus pursed his lips. “If you insist that the Styx can keep Ia-ah, Bob in check, then I suppose we will see. I still have my concerns. He is a  _ Titan,  _ remember. We mustn’t forget that. The real question here is: what do we do with him? Casting him back into Tartarus would be pointless. There’s no other easy place for a reformed Titan. There’s nothing for him amongst mortals.”

Nico shifted.  _ What would Percy do? Percy would have an answer. Percy would make the gods keep Bob safe.  _ “... Well… Calypso is a reformed Titan, and she’s living quite peacefully out in Indianapolis with Leo Valdez, from what I’ve heard.”

Zeus’s eyes flashed. “Calypso is… a special case.”

“How?”

Zeus and Nico stared at each other for a moment, sky blue eyes meeting molasses brown. The tension in the room was palpable. Zeus’s hand was inches from the Master Bolt. Nico’s hands were clenched into fists. He thought of Will, safe back at Camp Half-Blood. Will didn’t even know Nico was on Olympus. If Zeus smited him, Will wouldn’t know. He didn’t care about whether or not he died--he hadn’t cared in years--but the thought of never being able to snuggle in Will’s arms again hurt his heart. 

Dionysus broke the tension with an “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’ll take him.”

“That’s insane!” Athena broke in. “Think of all the chaos that would cause!”

“Perry Johnson kept a hellhound in the swordfighting arena for, like, two years. My Maenads are camped out in the forest right now with a desire to kill any demigod they see, and I can’t convince them to be any less homicidal no matter what I’ve tried. There’s a sea serpent colony not a mile off the shore of camp. There’s a myrmeke nest in the forest that almost cost a Demeter kid her life last winter. And that’s not even getting into Argus, or Peleus, or the palikoi, or the nymphs, or the satyrs, or the pegasi, or the nest of baby drakons that one of Ares’s brood stepped in last week during Capture the Flag, or the old inventions of the Hephaestus kids that sometimes crawl out of wherever they were buried and try and kill us all. There are worse at or near Camp Half-Blood.  _ Way  _ worse.

“So here’s my plan.” Dionysus steepled his hands. “I could use an assistant. And someone with Titan strength? Really helpful. Besides, I’ve had assistants before--Tantalus, Quintus--and although they never turned out well, I’m willing to give it another try. So my plan is to take Bob back to Camp Half-Blood and introduce him as Mr. B. Tell everyone he’s an old friend of mine. No one would care. I mean, no one cared too much about Quintus when he came over. As long as Bob lets me make the decisions and doesn’t terrorize campers, I think we’re good. No one even has to know he’s a Titan.”

“That’s the worst plan ever,” Athena groaned. “I mean, you don’t even have a backup in case something goes wrong. What if he’s found out? What if he betrays you?”

“If he betrays us, we’ll just call Jackson over and have him deal with it,” shrugged Dionysus. “No big deal.”

“Why are you even doing this?” asked Athena. “Like, why do you  _ care?  _ It’s not even your problem!”

“Am I not allowed to be nice, dear sister?”

Athena scanned him, pursing her lips into a line. “... Well… I suppose. It’s just… a bit out of character for you.”

Dionysus grunted and shrugged. “Anyway, Father, do we have a plan?”

Zeus sighed. “Sure. Sounds good.” His eyes went wide. “Oh. That’s my phone. You’re all dismissed, I have to take this.” He stood up. “Oh, hey. How are you?” A vague female voice sounded from the other end. “... No, I don’t know anything about that. I wasn’t in your drawers. I have no idea how your panties went missing. Why would you even suspect me? I’ve never done anything bad to you.” He walked out through the door in the back, closing it hard behind him. 

“Dirty old man,” Dionysus grumbled. He rose off his throne, wandering over to where Nico and Bob were standing by Hestia’s hearth. Bob held his head in his hands. “Don’t cry,” Dionysus said flatly. “You’re fine.”

Bob nodded. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, holding Small Bob to his chest. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dionysus shrugged. “I needed some help anyway.” He stretched. “Well… it truly pains me that I cannot spend any more time here, but I must update Chiron on Bob’s status and get him trained up. Nico, Bob, come. We must return to camp. It’s nearly lunchtime.”

“I like lunch,” Bob replied meekly. 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re as bad as a satyr. Take my hand.” He extended his hands to Bob and Nico.

Nico took his hand. His stomach lurched violently, wind screamed in his ears and then they were standing on Half-Blood Hill. Nico gagged, but fortunately kept down his breakfast. Warm hands clasped on his shoulders and he gasped, looking up into a pair of scowling blue eyes. 

“Where  _ were  _ you?” Will insisted.

Nico leaned into his hands. “Olympus. Bob’s staying here. He’s gonna be Mr. D’s assistant. The gods ruled it.”

Will pulled him into a hug. “Oh, thank the gods. Dammit, you have no idea how scared I was when I couldn’t find you after breakfast. I thought…” His voice broke. “I thought you’d been taken or something.”

Nico gave him a little squeeze. “Well, I’m okay. Take a deep breath. We’re okay now.”

Will took a few deep breaths, holding on to Nico for a few more moments before pulling away. His eyes shone with wetness. “... And I’m so fucking happy about that.” He took Nico’s hand. “I should get back to the infirmary. You want to come?”

“Always.” Nico squeezed Will’s hand. “Let’s go.”


	169. Solangelo-Get This One To Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico refuses to let Will work himself to death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief mentions of death, trauma. Nothing too serious. TON SPOILERS! Also, Kayla calls Will a twink.
> 
> Takes place right after CHB takes the Tower of Nero, but before Apollo comes back.

“There, there. You’re doing quite well,” Nico reassured, gently leading Will by the hip from the infirmary. Will’s eyes were almost fully closed. His skin was pale, turning his freckles a faded shade of tan. His arm was wrapped around Nico’s shoulder. Will’s feet were dragging hard, his shoulders were slumped as if he was physically being dragged to the earth, gravity weighing a million times heavier on him.

“... Mmmh,” Will croaked tiredly. 

Nico took a deep breath. Apollo still hadn’t come back since leaving to fight Python. Nico knew it was killing Will inside. Will hadn’t left the infirmary since he’d left. Even once everyone was stable, even once Chiron had offered to stay with the few remaining patients, he still hadn’t left. Nico had come to get him after Kayla had begged him to. 

He pushed his way into the Apollo cabin. The cabin was dim. Nico could see that the younger kids were snoring peacefully. 

“Some of them are gonna have their first trauma nightmares tonight.” Kayla’s voice came small and sad from a beanbag chair in the back of the cabin.

“True,” Nico sighed. “Well, they’re in good company.”

“And I see you brought Will,” Kayla murmured, crossing the room to take Will by the hand. “Thank you.” 

Will briefly cast his eyes up to meet hers, then let his lids flutter shut again.

“No problem,” Nico whispered. “Where’s Austin?”

Kayla cocked her head back. “Shower.”

Nico nodded. “Good for him.”

Kayla gave a small laugh. “Right. Let’s get this one in a real bed, shall we?”

Will raised his head, a dim haze of panic overtaking his gaze. “Mmh… no, I gotta… infirmary… people could  _ die,  _ Kay, you know this.”

“Will, you can’t even keep your head up,” Nico nagged. “You need to get in a real bed. Not fall asleep in an infirmary chair and wake up with a stiff back and neck.”

“I’ve seen your ass asleep on the floor,” Kayla cut in. “Worst fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen. Get in the bed or I put an arrow in between your little twink cheeks.”

“Um notta twink!” Will moaned. “Um a big, strong, self-respecting gay boy who doesn’t need no woman…”

“Okay, you are  _ exhausted,”  _ Kayla sighed. “Nico, on three?”

“Sounds good.”

“One, two, three!”

Nico and Kayla pushed Will hard, sending him stumbling and flopping into his bed. Will grumbled in protest, swatting weakly at Nico and Kayla’s hands as they lay him down. 

“Go to bed,” Nico insisted. 

“But I... don’t want to… people are hurting…”

Nico sat down, gently pushing Will’s hair out of his face. “Chiron’s there. He’ll make sure no one dies. You know that.”

“... But… it’s  _ my  _ job…”

“No one would hate you for sharing the burden, Will,” Kayla whispered. “No one. You can rest. It’s okay.”

“... But what about Dad?” mumbled Will.

Kayla sighed. “I’m worried for him, too.”

There was a moment of silence. Will leaned into Nico’s stroking hand a little more. Kayla looked at Nico with wide, pleading eyes. It took Nico a moment to realize what she wanted. “He’s not dead,” Nico assured. “His soul is… somewhere away from his body. In fact, I’m not a hundred percent sure he still  _ has  _ a body. But he isn’t dead. I would have felt it if he died a full, mortal death.”

“... Well… that’s… a little comforting, actually. Thanks,” Kayla nodded. 

Will made a slight pleading noise. 

Kayla rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll relay it to Austin.”

Will hummed happily. 

Nico pet Will’s head slightly. He didn’t know how to fully explain what he had felt. Apollo’s soul had plunged through the Underworld. He had been dead for several minutes. But he hadn’t stayed dead. His soul was an immortal one. And he’d come back to life, or was coming back to life, or something. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to tell Will and Kayla that. They’d lost too much. Too many siblings. Too many family members. Too many friends. Too many good people. They shouldn't have to worry for someone else.

When he shook himself out of his thoughts, Will’s eyes were closed, and his breathing was soft and even. 

“He’s asleep,” Nico noted. 

“Finally,” Kayla grumbled. “So… you wanna stay here tonight? With Dad gone, we’ve got a spare cot.”

“No offense to you or your family, but I’d rather sleep in a harpy’s nest than sleep anywhere your father slept.”

“Noted,” Kayla replied. 

Nico gave a rasping chuckle. “Anyway, I’m not staying. Now that Will’s asleep, I’m probably gonna go.” 

Kayla nodded, standing up and crossing the room to her bunk. “Cool. I think I just heard Austin turn off the shower water, so I’m gonna get clothes so I can shower too.” She got up off the bed and drifted towards her footlocker. 

Nico leaned in and pressed a barely-there ghost of a kiss to Will’s cheek. “Sleep well,” he whispered.  _ I love you. I can’t say it quite yet, but I love you.  _ “Goodnight, Will.”

He rose off the bed and drifted out the door, leaving Will safe amongst his siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did...  
> did I actually just sit down and write a fuckin drabble? Like, sit down for an hour or so and... make a thing? Dude. That's fuckin crazy, man.
> 
> Also, if Kayla seems a little inconsistent here compared to how I sometimes write her, all the fics I've read with her recently were by Phantomxlegend and he/she/they writes Kayla a lot more aggro than I do, so...
> 
> Also also, if I don't post again for a few days, merry Christmas to my Christian/Christmas-celebrating readers! And happy late Hanukkah to the Jewish readers! Sorry for not saying that sooner, I'm a complete mess!


	170. Pre-Solangelo-Why Do You Hang Out With Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico voices some darker thoughts to Will. Will tries his best to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's pretty innocent. Mentions of an unexplained "incident" that they need a healer for and Nico kind of hating himself. Takes place between BOO and THO.

“Why do you hang out with me?”   


Nico’s words take Will off guard. He starts a little and looks over at Nico from where he’s sitting on a rock on a small outcrop over the canoe lake. “What do you mean?”   


“No one else ever hangs out with me. Why the hell do you hang out with me?”

Will cocks his head. “Because I like you? I mean, I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“I’m disgusting,” Nico sighed. “Or at least that’s what people think of me. I mean, I might as well be covered in blood or sewage for how people look at me. Everyone but you, anyway, and I don’t know why.”

“Because I like you, that’s why,” Will shrugs. “I don’t think you’re disgusting or scary or dangerous or anything like that. You’re just… you’re just Nico to me. Not disgusting or anything like that.”

Nico doesn’t speak for the longest time. Finally, he whispers “... Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course. You’re a good person.” Will looks over at Nico, giving him a sweet smile.

“... But I’m… I’m not… I’m a danger to society, I…” Nico trails off, shaking his head.

Will shrugs. “As I said, I don’t think you’re dangerous. I don’t think you’d hurt anyone on purpose. Just because you’re not harmless doesn’t mean you’re a terrible person. If anything, the fact that you can restrain yourself from hurting everybody that pisses you off makes you a better person. I wouldn’t worry about it much if I were you.”

Nico stares at the ground for a long time. Finally, he sighs and murmurs, “Do you think that rock has room for two people?”

“I guess if you sit in my lap or something.” There’s a slight tinge of hope in Will’s voice.

Nico snorts. “What if you just scoot over, like, two inches?”

“That would be less fun,” says Will, scooting over two inches. 

Nico climbs up on the rock next to him, making sure not to touch Will with any part of his body. Despite this, Will is still warm enough to be felt from a few inches away. “Thanks,” Nico mumbled.

Searching for anything to say, Will replies, “... So.. why did you want to be up here?”

Nico shrugs. “Just wanted to see the water, I guess.” And the water is nice, it’s sparkly and clear and Nico can see one of the naiads obviously ogling Will from the bottom of the lake. “She’s staring at you.”

“Who? Oh, the naiad. Yeah, naiads stare at me a lot. One of these days I really should tell them not to waste their time on me.”

“... Which you’ll do as soon as you stop enjoying the attention?”

Will laughed. “Guess so. Hey, I mean, it does feel good to know  _ someone’s  _ into me, even if it’s not someone I’m attracted to in any way, you know?”

“Can’t say I relate. I think only a blind person could ever fall for me,” sighs Nico. 

Will bites his lip. “I’m sure someone will fall for you someday. Who knows, maybe someone already has, and you just don’t know it yet.”

“Don’t tell me you’re still on that nonsense you told me two weeks ago in the infirmary.”

“I can be on whatever nonsense I want,” retorts Will.

“You’ll get over it soon. Just trust me on this one. I don’t know if you’re suicidal, blind, or if you’re just not right in the head but if you have any sort of affectionate feelings for me, get rid of them now.” Nico snorts humorlessly. “Save yourself the pain.”

Will was quiet for a moment. “... Let’s drop this topic. I hear this enough from near-strangers that think their opinions really make a difference in how I act. I’m gonna feel how I want, how about that?”

“If you get hurt, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

“Fine. I won’t,” replies Will.

They fall into silence. Finally, a girl Nico only barely recognizes as Will’s little sister comes pushing through the trees. “There’s been an incident.”

“... Aaaand you need a healer?” drawls Will questioningly. 

“Yup.”

“I’m on my way. Swordfighting arena, archery range, forest or Ares cabin?”

“Hecate cabin. Jackson’s already there, but you might want to bring another fire extinguisher, just in case.”

Will rolls his eyes all the way to Jersey and back. “Will do. Seeya, Nico.”

Nico nods. “Will.” He watches as Will runs off after the girl, whose green locks are already disappearing into the trees.  _ Shame. He could be annoying, but he sure as hell doesn’t deserve the death that following me around causes.  _

_ I hope he comes to his senses soon. It would be a terrible shame to lose someone valuable like him. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, you glorious bastards. I wanted to post something tonight, even if it wasn't very long or complicated, so here we are. Thank you all for being here, if you made it this far. It astounds me that this fic made it this far in less than a year. It celebrates its first birthday in two weeks. Anyway, I went from being a virtual nobody in the fandom to being referred to by somebody as "one of the greats" and being recognized on other platforms in less than a year, and I'm still kind of high off it all, and I'm really hoping that 2021 will be better than 2020, and I know that's cliche, but this was actually the worst year of my life, and I'm really sorry for rambling so badly, and also for this run-on sentence that probably nobody is still reading.
> 
> I have no idea what this following year will bring for this fic or this account. Obviously I'm not going anywhere or anything, in fact, I'm working on a somewhat longer Hermes-centric drabble that I'm hoping to be able to post soon because I think it's pretty sweet. 
> 
> I love you all. Happy New Year. Goodnight.


	171. One-sided Hermes/Athena, Hermes/Aphrodite, Hephaestus/Aphrodite, Hermes/May, Apollo/OC/Hermes, mentioned Percabeth-wave high the flag in honor of our queen, hail to the lady of honor and prestige

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermes doesn't know when he started crushing on her, but it's not going away. A Hermes character study of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Zeus basically encouraging Hermes to molest someone (he doesn't do it, obviously), Hermes accidentally is a peeping tom, brief mentions of a suicide pact, Athena still doesn't like Percy, Hermes is questionable as well, descriptions of illness/pain, curses, brief female nudity, but it's not graphic. Mentioned sex, but again, it's not detailed or described in any real way. Mentioned drug use/murder. Also, TON spoilers, but they're not too extensive.

Hermes doesn’t know when it started. 

Maybe it was when he’d first came to Olympus, first sat in that beautiful yet obscenely ornate throne that was carved special just for him-- _the eleventh Olympian,_ it was still almost barely believable--and looked around the room at his fellow Olympians. He’d recognized Apollo, bright in his glory, and of course Zeus, his father, a storming spirit in the highest, proudest throne. He’d felt the pinched fury of Hera’s eyes glaring into the side of his head, uncomfortable at first, but becoming more so as he remained. 

And then he saw her face.

She’d been a brunette back then. When he’d seen her for the first time, she was focused on a piece of needlework, her fingers working the thread so gently and precisely that he can’t help but stare. Zeus starts the meeting, but Hermes can’t hear a thing he says until he calls her name. 

“Have you found something more interesting than the meeting, Athena?”

_Athena._

He’s lost in the name. Soft consonants. Full, sweet vowels. The way Zeus says it doesn’t give it justice at all. She raises her eyes and frowns. “No, Father.”

“Don’t lie to me, now.”

“I don’t,” she nods. 

“Good. Anyway. You may have noticed that we have a new member.”

All eyes turn to Hermes, but he can’t tear his eyes away enough to greet them. 

She’s looking at him.

She’s looking at him like he’s _dirt._ Her eyes are the sharpest gray he’s ever seen and they’re almost _glaring_ at him. Her posture is immaculate. Her hands, delicate but strong-looking, are gently fiddling with a spear of the brightest Celestial bronze he’s ever seen. She’s muscular, but not in a way that exudes masculinity. She’s almost frightening in the way she holds herself.

It’s ridiculously arousing.

  
  


The situation doesn’t improve with time. 

Every time he sees her, his heart slams in his chest and all his ichor goes directly southward. She speaks to him in meetings and he barely registers her words over his powerful desire. 

After one particularly bad meeting, Zeus keeps him back. He kneels before his father on a trembling knee, staring at the base of the throne, at the soft clouds that surround it. “You summoned, Lord Zeus?”

“Yes, I did. I have noticed your lack of attention in the meetings lately. This is unacceptable. I expect it to be remedied at once. Understand?”

“I understand, Father, but…”

“But?”

“But… it’s a bit hard. I… I have…” Hermes clears his throat, his little wings fluttering with his nerves. “I’m having some trouble. With a girl.”

Zeus raises an eyebrow. “A girl.”

“Yes.”

“Son. It’s just a fucking _girl._ Take what you want from her and go. You’re a _deity._ She’ll enjoy it,” Zeus sighs, his sky-blue eyes dull with disappointment. “I mean, really. No son of mine is going to let a _girl_ take enough of his mental fortitude as to make him distracted in important meetings. Unless it’s Aphrodite or some…”

“It’s Athena.”

Zeus’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. A scowl takes over his face. “Hermes.”

“... Yes?”

“She is virginal. She took the oath before you were a sperm. Forget it.” He waves his hand. “That’s an order.”

  
  


Hermes does not forget it.

Years turn into decades turn into millennia. Hermes’s appearance changes probably a thousand times. He’s a peasant boy, a prostitute, a peasant boy again, a poor beggar, a traveller, Robin Hood, a box turtle in a child’s tank, a middle-aged businessman. He hangs out with the likes of Blackbeard, Billy the Kid, and Frank Abagnale. He accidentally starts the French Revolution via an errant word to a fish-cutting woman and finds Dionysus passed-out drunk in Marie Antoinette’s wine cellar wearing only women’s underclothes. He does mushrooms with the Manson gang before they were murderers and sleeps with the queen of Russia. He gets himself involved in the Kennedy assassination somehow. He does cocaine in Florida in the eighties and spends several hours chasing Apollo with a rubber snake until Athena--oh, beautiful lady!--wrestles him to the ground. He takes lover after lover after lover until he can’t even hope to remember them all. 

He lets Aphrodite sit in his lap--she always looks like her. In the end, Hephaestus catches them and lashes Hermes with his cane until his ichor spills bright over the temple floor. Afterwards, Hermes breaks into tears and Aphrodite cradles him to her soft round breast until his body stops aching and his mind, finally, spins itself to sleep. 

Sometime in the fifteenth century or so, Athena’s hair turns to a soft sandy blonde. That doesn’t help things at all. He’s been into blondes since Rome. 

When he sees that, he goes immediately to Apollo and begs him to let him have a three-way with him and his lover, some widow he met in London the previous year. Apollo obliges, lovingly, and by the end of the night, he’s holding Apollo tight to his chest, small tears dripping into Apollo’s curls, still as beautiful and golden as they were the day of his birth. 

Centuries pass. Apollo’s oracle shatters Hermes’s heart. Hermes weeps for his May until he cannot breathe. He screams at Apollo when Apollo dares pity his oracle for the shake-up. Once Apollo figures out his oracle is okay, he comes to comfort Hermes in his bleak grief and Hermes cannot refuse. Apollo is many things, arrogant, full of it, perhaps too light-hearted. But he is not cruel, and truly, is he any more conceited than any of the other gods? _He just has the decency to be honest about it,_ Hermes thinks as he sinks into Apollo’s arms.

War comes and his beloved son is blindly led to slaughter dozens of innocent demigods as the gods fight Typhon in the west. His heart weighs with grief and he weeps on Apollo’s shoulder for hours, the golden god is gentle and Hermes thanks the Fates a thousand times for their generosity in making Apollo so… perhaps not _kind,_ but easy, and forgiving, and in his good moods, soft. Hermes doesn’t know what he would do without him.

But numbing grief gives way to insanity and he forgets himself, scattered in the winds of time like ash. He can’t remember anything, can’t _think_ long enough to remember anything. He sees bits of things, golden hair, white wings, big smiles, the smell of nectar and wine. 

Sharp gray eyes.

When his sanity is restored, he tries to embrace her, but she pushes him away. He wants to run to Apollo, but Zeus calls a meeting, and Apollo is whisked away, and that blond Grace boy makes a whole speech and then Zeus throws them halfway across the world and then he’s back on Olympus and Apollo’s still not there. Apollo suffers through his mortality and it hurts him, it really does, but there’s nothing he can do. Zeus wouldn’t even listen to Artemis, he surely won’t listen to him. 

So he takes bets. Ares, as always, predicts a violent and gory demise. Hephaestus puts ten drachma that he’ll be immortal in a year, and if not, he’ll die. Aphrodite puts three in for immortality in three months. Athena bets for immortality in six months, no more, no less, followed by a three year recovery period.

She’s right. She’s always right. And he’s _so, so_ into it.

  
  


It’s a warm day in early September, and Hermes is flying to Athena’s temple. His heart pounds as he flies. She’s outside, her body nested in the crook of an olive tree. She looks asleep, but he wants to check. If he wakes her up without proper preparation, she could spear him easily, and even though he’s immortal, it would still hurt.

“Athena,” he whispers.

She doesn’t stir. The breeze stirs her golden hair about her face. Her lips are parted slightly. The wrinkles of anger and stress that normally mar her face are gone and she looks peaceful. 

Gods, he wants to kiss her. 

But he refrains. He calls her name, a bit louder this time, and her eyes flutter open. She’s tired and her face still looks soft. “Herm. Why are you in my yard?”

“Oh! Dear Athena!” Hermes plastered a smile on his face, despite his nerves. “I was looking for you! I was wishing to debrief with you about our last meeting, you know, the one about the strix that got loose in the dining hall last week! Whose do you think it is?”

Athena crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. “I was of the opinion that it was yours.”

“It wasn’t. I was going to see what you thought. Because you’re, you know, the smart one.”

Athena puffs her chest. “Thank you. Quite honestly, I have not thought much about it. I suppose it could be one of Artemis’s pests, or perhaps that little rat who stole my daughter is sending another one of his impertinent little gifts. I’m unsure. It doesn’t matter much.”

“Little ra--you mean _Percy Jackson?”_ Hermes can’t help but laugh. 

Athena huffs and covers her ears, tossing her hair. “Oh! Don’t say his name, my delicate virgin ears cannot handle it.”

“You swear the second most of any female I’ve ever met. Second only to Artemis,” Hermes chides gently. 

“I’m _second?”_ A look of unmistakable disgust crosses her face. “I need to step up my game. I can’t be coming _second_ to that brat. I’m already second in Father’s affections to her, I need to beat her at _something.”_

“You beat her at plenty of things.” _Beauty, grace, regality. Breasts._ “You’re far smarter than she.”

Athena sighs. “Well, at least there’s that. Thank you, Hermes. You always know what to say, you know that?”

Hermes bows delicately. “Thank you, beloved Athena. I’ve been crafting my skills for millennia. My tongue is quicksilver personified. I’m the god of speech that melts in your ears.”

“We’re proud of ourselves today,” Athena snarks.

Hermes puffs his chest. “A bit.”

“Any major accomplishments?”

A sly smile traces Hermes’s lips. “Talked to an attractive, noble, regal woman.”

Athena gives him a look. “Behave.”

Hermes pouts. “Aw, but Atheeeena…”

“And if you really want to attract women, whining doesn’t help.” And with that, Athena turns to leave. “I’m going to take a shower. It’s much too warm for fall, and I’m quite sweaty.”

_Oh._

Hermes feels his ichor rush south at a staggering rate. He leans against a nearby tree and watches her enter her temple, dizzy with want. “Hey… can we talk? Like, can we keep talking?”

Athena beckons him along. “About what?”

“I… I don’t know. Anything. I just wanna see you. I mean, talk to you.”

Athena gives him a strange look. She tugs him into her bedroom. “Why?”

“Um… I… uh…”

“Tell you what, I’m gonna shower, and when I get out, maybe you’ll have your wits about you. How does that sound?”

Hermes nodded. 

“Good,” Athena nods, vanishing into her bathroom.

Hermes looks around her room. There was a pile of books some six feet high next to a bookshelf filled with--shocker--even more books. She had a computer on a desk in the corner. Her bed was small, as if she didn’t sleep much, or it didn’t matter much to her. 

And her bathroom door was slightly ajar.

Hermes crosses the room. He puts a hand on the door to close it, but his hand stills in its track when he sees a quick glimpse of Athena’s bare backside. _Damn. She’s thicc._

Athena turns unexpectedly and Hermes jerks back behind the door, slamming it, his heart pounding out of his chest. 

“HERMES!”

Athena’s bellow of rage echoes through the room like nothing he’d ever heard before. Hermes stiffens and turns, feeling a sudden urge to empty his bladder. He manages to avoid urinating all over himself and stands up, clearing his throat. She emerges from the bathroom, her spear in her hand. She’s covered by a bathrobe and nothing else. “Yes, my sister?”

“Don’t. You. Dare. Sister. Me.” Athena’s voice is bitter, strong and sharp. “You know what you did.”

“I swear, I was just going to close the door! I got distracted by…” _by your beauty,_ “by the mural you have on your wall, the one that moves, the one of yourself defeating Arachne with your children.”

Athena growls. She leans in closer and pokes her spear at his tender voicebox. “How would you like it if you were violated in that way? Knowing someone was seeing you at your most vulnerable, without you knowing? How would you feel?” Her voice breaks, slightly, and tears rim those beautiful gunmetal eyes. 

Hermes shifts. “I’m so sorry, I swear, I… I just did it because...”

“Because you love me?” Athena’s voice is sharp and cruel, and she says the word _love_ in such a way that it seems as if she despises the word. “Let me guess. You’ve always loved me. You’ve had a crush on me since the first day you set foot in the Olympian council. I felt your eyes on me that day. They did not leave my face. I thought you merely appreciated me, but as time went on, I felt it must be something more. And then, sure enough, one day, Father pulls me aside and tells me ‘daughter, your brother Hermes is in love with you. I merely thought it would be good for you to know.’ And I’ve known ever since. And it never faded. I thought it would ease with time, but it never did. I thought you could keep it under control, but apparently you can’t.” Athena pulls away, her pale peach lips pressed to a thin line. “Hermes, my fellow Olympian, my _brother.”_

Hermes swallows. “... I’m so sorry. It was an accident.”

“‘SORRY’ doesn’t cut it!” she bellows. A terrifying growl escapes her throat. 

A sharp sting cuts Hermes’s flesh and a drop of ichor traces down his throat to his collar. He shudders. “... Ah… what are… okay. Just let the other shoe drop. What are you going to do to me?”

Athena pulls her spear away, trembling with barely controlled rage. “I have not decided yet. I refuse to act rashly, especially in the face of this new injustice.” She takes a few steps back, rising up to a full twenty feet. Hermes wonders if she could crush him with only her foot. Her pink, pretty foot, with its delicate toes, and its well-manicured nails. _Oh, Fates._

Athena continues. “But mark my words, Hermes, I _will_ get my revenge.”

“I know you will,” sighs Hermes.

  
  
  


It’s a few days before he even sees Athena again.

She comes across to the lookout spot, the best one on Olympus, that he stands on in twilight, gathering his thoughts. She wears no armor, only a soft-looking black dress that makes her look more like Aphrodite than Athena. She wears no makeup--Hermes almost laughs at the thought of her smearing paint on her face, so insecure, so effeminate--but she has a pendant of sorts on a chain around her neck. As she gets closer, Hermes can see that it’s a coin with her face on it. Something dug up from Athens’s dusty ruins. Something from the distant past. 

She breezes up to him with the grace of… well, a goddess, and pauses next to him. “Hermes.”

“... Athena,” he barely manages.

“Oh, don’t be so nervous.” She clasps a capable hand on his shoulder and smiles at him. “I’ve made a decision.”

Hermes swallows. His chest tightened. “What?”

“You’re forgiven.” She meets his eyes, gazing intently. “You’re a mere man. You couldn’t have controlled yourself if you tried.” A small laugh escapes her throat. “Now come. Get a hug. You look so frightened, you must need one.”

“Oh…!” Hermes gives a small smile. “Of course. I would love to!” He steps closer, feeling her arms wrap around his waist. She is warm and smells of lemons, and her hair feels like silk against his cheek. His skin tingles where Athena’s fingers touch on his bare shoulder above his chiton, he’s warm in ecstasy and oh, gods, he wishes that his chiton and her dress could just fade away and he could feel more of that sweet electricity. 

Suddenly, an icy sensation floods his veins and Athena’s touch begins to sting. He pulls away. “What was that?”

Athena’s lip twitches. “What was what, brother?”

“That… that feeling. It stung.”

“Could be arousal, brother,” she replies coolly. 

“But arousal doesn’t _hurt,”_ Hermes sighs.

“I wouldn’t know,” Athena shrugs. “Either way, I’m not sure. I didn’t feel it. Perhaps it was a bee. Maybe talk to Apollo about it and see what he can find.”

Hermes, thoroughly shaken, crosses his arms and shudders. “... Perhaps I should.”

  
  
  


Hermes arrives at Apollo’s amphitheatre in minutes, the sun god is golden in the dim light and he’s fiddling slightly with a small object in his hands. Plunky, awkward notes emerge from the thing as he turns the small handles.

Hermes lands. “Valdezinator?”

“Valdezinator,” Apollo confirms. “It’s getting better, though, isn’t it?”

“‘Tis, brother,” Hermes nods. “Either way, I… I need your assistance.”

Apollo looks at him quizzically. “With what?”

“Athena and I were talking a moment ago. She told me I was forgiven for a prior trespass against her and hugged me. It was pleasant, but then I felt this… this sting in the skin of my shoulder. What do you suppose it is?”

Apollo thinks. “... May I see the afflicted area?”

“Yes, of course,” Hermes replies, sitting in front of Apollo. 

Apollo touches Hermes’s back, his hands sure and soft. “Well, I don’t see a sting.” He rubbed the skin on his shoulder, down his side, over his arm. “Nothing beneath, either. I’m sorry, I just…” 

Hermes turns. Apollo’s brow is furrowed. “You just what, brother?”

“... Something’s there, but my godly senses can’t… I can’t detect it.”

Hermes shudders. “... What should I do? Have I been cursed?”

Apollo seems to sense Hermes’s fear and puts an arm around him. “Do not panic yet. You have not seen any symptoms of a curse thus far. I would rest tonight and, if you begin to suffer, then I’d recommend going to Hecate. She may be able to assist.”

Hermes nods. He can’t force his body to move. Terror fills him, so much terror that he can hardly breathe. Athena’s terrifying when she’s angry. If she’s taking undercover means, then that would be even worse. 

Apollo puts his arms around him. “Would you like to stay at my place tonight?”

Hermes nods. 

“Thought you did,” Apollo almost-purrs. 

Apollo teleports them back to his place. They slip beneath the covers and Hermes melts into Apollo’s overly plush mattress. He pulls the covers up to his nose. They smell like Apollo. It’s nice.

Apollo turns off the lights and curls up next to him, tucking his arm around Hermes’s waist. He lightly strokes steady fingers over Hermes’s back, humming softly, sweet music tumbles over petal-pink lips as he presses them to Hermes’s dark curls. In his emotional vulnerability, he’s retreated to a younger state. It happens sometimes when he’s scared.

Despite his lingering fear, he drifts into an uneasy sleep as Apollo rubs his back. 

Pain. 

That’s all Hermes feels when he wakes up. He gurgles out a sob and hiccups. He pushes out breath, trying to call out, trying to summon Apollo, trying to summon _anyone,_ because the hurt he feels is _sitting_ on him, a throbbing ache that possesses his entire being, but his voice won’t come, and it tires him too badly to keep trying. Hot tears trail down his cheeks as he moves his arm, the muscles weeping in their exhaustion as he pats the bed beside him. 

It’s empty.

He puts his face in the pillow, his eyes stinging. There’s no energy left in his body for full sobs, only soft, shaky breaths. He’s so, so tired. His muscles are sore and aching. There’s a jackhammer going in his skull. His whole chest hurts, it’s possessed by a burning sensation that takes up its entire being. His throat feels dry and parched. 

A thought traces into his mind, somewhere along the edges of the haze. _Athena. Curse._

_Fuck._

_I’msosorryI’msosorryI’msosorry… sister, please… hurts… hurts… hurts so very much…_ His stomach clenched violently and he could only slightly tense to assuage it. Even that made his muscles flame. _… please, Athena… I’m so sorry…_

Nothing changes. _… I’ll never do it again…_

His thoughts drift into a haze. It’s just not possible for him to think coherently anymore. He’s too tired, too cold and his body is too heavy. The bed feels like the warmest, softest surface in the world; he never wants to leave. 

He doesn’t realize that he’s fallen asleep, but when he wakes up, someone’s talking quietly next to him. He can sense he is not alone, two other presences stand near his bed.

“... Do you think you can take this away?”

 _Apollo._ He nearly weeps. His dear, beloved brother. Fates, if he could move, he would have reached up and kissed him.

“For a price.” Hecate’s voice is level and cool. Hermes’s head throbs at the new, unexpected sound, and he’s torn between crying for it to stop and staying quiet and eavesdropping. “It takes a lot to go directly against the will of another deity. Especially an Olympian, especially an _intelligent_ Olympian.”

“So it _was_ Athena!” Apollo sounds outraged, which lifts Hermes’s spirits a bit. “Why would she do such a thing?”

Hecate shrugged. “I don’t know. Although I must admit, it’s a bit of a strange tactic for her. Terrible physical pain and illness isn’t something she normally dabbles in. I would think she would have debilitated his mind.”

“I first thought that she had perhaps hit him with a syringe full of live virus, but when my powers failed to have an effect, I figured a curse was in order,” Apollo reasoned. “Now, what is your price of removal?”

“A hundred drachma, Hermes gives me back the cauldron he stole from me last century and you remove the curse you put on my daughter.”

Hermes hears Apollo curse under his breath. “You realize I only cursed your Lou Ellen because she tried to get my sweet Kayla in on a _suicide pact,_ right?”

“I named my price, Apollo.”

Apollo’s quiet for a long time. Finally, he grumbles, “Fine. It is done. Take your hundred drachma. I will have Hermes give you back the cauldron after you heal him. That’s a promise.”

“Right, because we all know that Olympian promises are the _best_ kind of promises. If he does not, the curse goes back into effect with no loss of severity. He has twenty-four hours to find it, starting immediately after I remove the curse, provided he is not otherwise debilitated by some outside force.”

Hermes feels the loss of Hecate’s presence in the room, followed by a dip in the bed as Apollo sits down next to him. A soft hand brushes against Hermes’s temple, bringing some relief from the pressing ache that sits on his body. 

“She will return soon, I presume,” Apollo says, his voice low and soothing. “I’m sorry I did not take our conversation out of the room. She can be difficult, and I’d rather cause some pain for a short period of time if it means less pain later.”

 _Is that not the point of medicine?_ Hermes thinks, lacking the energy to open his mouth and make the retort. 

“Can you speak to me? Please?” Apollo pushes a strand of hair out of Hermes’s face.

Hermes rolls his head back on the pillow. He can feel the swelling in his throat. The last thing he wants to do is talk. 

“Please,” Apollo repeats, and this time there’s a tinge of panic clouding his radio-perfect baritone. 

_Right._ Apollo’s barely six months back from being mortal. Of course there’s some little part of him that would be scared. If a mortal were this sick, they could perhaps perish. “... ‘Pollo,” he croaks, his voice driving nails into his skull. 

“Oh, thank you, Hermes. I was… never mind. Thank you. You are as kind as you are clever.”

If he wasn’t so weak, Hermes would have giggled.

  
  
  


Hecate appears in Hermes’s room just a moment later. “Bit of a rush job, but I think it would work. Do you have any fucking idea how hard it is to get an Olympian goddess to give you a lock of her hair?”

“I… am sorry?” Apollo asks. 

“Wouldn’t have expected you to understand,” Hecate grumbles. “I had to trade her a fetus in a jar and a ball of spun-gold thread for it.”

“A what now?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Hecate holds up a pale cloth bag. “I’m gonna need you to bring him outside and put him on the asphalt in your amphitheatre.” Hecate cocks her head at Hermes. 

Apollo gently scoops Hermes into his arms, taking care to settle his head safely on his shoulder. He walks with care outside, trying not to pay attention to the huffy little moans of pain that Hermes gives with every step Apollo makes. He swallows. It’s a cool night in early fall. A light breeze stirs Apollo’s chiton around his strong legs. He makes a mental note to spend some time enjoying it once this all is over, before he has to go to bed. As he enters the amphitheatre, he has the fleeting thought that it might be a nice night for acoustic guitar. 

Hecate waves her hand at them. “Keep holding him for a moment.”

Apollo obeys. Hecate pulls a piece of bloodred chalk out of her bag. She traces chalk lines on the asphalt, murmuring quietly to herself. More items emerge from the bag, a lock of sandy blonde hair tied with a length of gold twine, an old pharmacy bottle, a jar of something green, a small wood effigy of Asclepius’s staff, and a candle with some writing on it. Apollo recognizes it as an old incantation of Hecate’s powers. 

“Pre-prepared spell,” Apollo nods. “Classic.”

Hecate shushes him loudly, lighting the candle. “Put him in the middle.”

Apollo does as he’s told. He tries to summon a pillow to put under Hermes’s head, but Hecate pushes him away. “Don’t interfere!”

Apollo backs off. Hecate stands over Hermes and begins to whisper under her breath. She laces her fingers, balling her hands into one fist in front of her. Hermes lies still. Hecate brings her hands down hard and Hermes writhes, crying out hoarsely and clutching his chest. Hecate repeats the motion twice more and a bilious mist twists out from over Hermes’s heart. Hermes lets out a loud, clear wail and goes limp in a pile on the ground. 

Hecate takes a few steps back, blowing out the candle. “Finished. When he wakes, I suspect he will feel a great relief. I know not why she infected his chest, but she did. I will see you later, I suppose.” 

With that, she vanishes into mist, and Apollo runs for Hermes, scooping him in his arms. Hermes doesn’t stir, and for a second Apollo panics, thinking of all he lost, and all he cannot bear to lose, but then Hermes groans, coughs twice and lifts his head, and Apollo clings to him and sobs.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry.” Hermes’s voice is rusty from disuse. “‘M okay. What time is it?”

Apollo wipes his eyes and sniffles. “Around nine in the evening.” He pulls a breath. “I found you when I came home at… oh, six or so? I left before you woke in the morning, I felt nothing on you when I left you, and I didn’t check because… because you always wake up later than me, and…” The words tumble freely from his lips, whimpered apologies, before he bites his tongue and just whispers an “I’m sorry.”

Hermes pulls himself from Apollo’s grip and presses the heel of his hand into his forehead. “... You’re good. Uh… you wanna get dinner or something? I’m starved.”

Apollo manages a breathy laugh, and it’s all he can do to stop from collapsing into Hermes’s arms in a tangle of limbs. “I’d like that.”

Hermes grins and lifts himself off the ground. In a snap of his fingers, his cap, sandals and caduceus appear on his person. He transforms the caduceus into a cell phone. “Same place as always?”

“Unless you want something else.”

“I’m good for Olympus’s Edge,” Hermes shrugs, and in a blink of an eye, he and Apollo are sitting in an open-air pavilion drinking iced coffees served to them by a nymph who laughs just a little too loudly at all of Hermes’s jokes. 

“... Thank you,” Hermes says, after draining his cup. “For breaking the curse. It means a lot.”

“You know, you still owe Hecate her cauldron back,” Apollo nags in response. “I may have made it happen, but I couldn’t do it without her, and if you don’t keep your end of the bargain, she’ll make your life hell, you know that?”

Hermes sighs. “Yeah. Damn, and Chiron would have paid so well for that much Celestial bronze.”

“Wait, you sold it?” Apollo’s face is a mask of horror.

“Nah, not yet. But I kind of wanted to. Would have fetched a handsome profit.”

“Give it back, then!” Apollo laughs nervously. 

Hermes groans, but he snaps his fingers anyway. “It is done.”

 _“Thank_ you! Fates, you act like your life isn’t worth anything,” Apollo groans. 

Hermes shrugs. “If you live a life that can’t end, is it worth anything trying to live safely?”

Apollo takes another sip of his drink. “That’s profound. I’ll have to think about that one.”

“Everything I say is worth thinking about.”

Apollo rolls his eyes. “You’re full of it.”

“Full of good thoughts.”

“Liar.”

A thin laugh escapes Hermes’s mouth. “That’s true.”

Apollo only sighs. He drinks slowly from his cup, and they’re quiet for a moment, a comfortable, calm silence. Suddenly, he looks up, his eyes going very, very wide. “Herm. Don’t look now, but…”

Hermes feels a tingle down his spine. He turns his head. Athena sits in a booth with Artemis a few feet away. Artemis catches Hermes’s gaze and scowls, her bright silver eyes cutting Hermes like a knife. 

“I’m sorry about her,” Apollo murmurs. “I don’t know why she’d be like that towards you.”

“I do,” sighs Hermes.

“Does it have anything to do with whatever the hell you did to Athena to make her curse you?” Apollo asked. “And yes, I am victim blaming, because I know you and I know her.”

Hermes looks at the table and mumbles.

Apollo leans in. “What was that?”

“... I may have… ah… accidentally peeked at her in the shower.”

Horror crosses Apollo’s face. He looks down, shaking his head. It’s a moment before he speaks. “... You don’t do that,” he finally says. “I mean, at least it was an accident, but… I don’t know. You still shouldn’t do that.”

“Says the guy who chased a girl until she begged the gods to turn her into a tree! Since when do _you_ have the right to bitch?” hisses Hermes.

“That was thousands of years ago! I’m different now!” Apollo sounds desperate to believe it. “I swear!”

“Yeah, but still,” sighs Hermes. “Don’t get bitchy with me.”

Apollo shakes his head. “Wasn’t trying to,” he grumbles, meeting Artemis’s eyes. The twins have a silent conversation between themselves, something that Hermes can’t understand. Finally, Artemis turns her head away and goes back to conversing with Athena in hushed tones. 

“What did she say to you?” asks Hermes.

Apollo shakes his head. “She’s pissed. At both of us. You for doing what you did, and me for helping you.”

“What about Hecate?”

“No one’s going to put any blame on that little witch,” Apollo replied morosely. “I don’t think any of them will even remember she was involved in a few weeks’ time.” He shakes his head. “But seriously, you need to apologize. Like, yesterday.”

Hermes shrinks in on himself. “... I don’t want to make a scene.”

“Do it right, and you won’t.”

“Will you come with me?” Hermes meets Apollo’s eyes, desperate in a way Apollo hasn’t seen in a while. 

Apollo nods, as Hermes knows he will. His trials softened him considerably, and Hermes plans to take advantage of this in every way possible. They make their way to where the two goddesses are sitting a few tables away. Athena glares at Hermes out of the corner of her eye, but doesn’t fully look at him. Artemis is less reserved. “What?” 

Hermes chokes. Artemis’s eyes are needles, pinning him down, cutting him open. Apollo elbows him. “Go on.”

“Um… yeah… I’m… really sorry. For everything. It was a complete accident. I really did intend to close your door. I’m sorry.”

Athena looks up at him for the first time. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”

“I tried. You just weren’t in a position to listen.”

Athena looks back down, thinking. It’s a while before she finally speaks, and Hermes’s heart feels like it’s being stuffed in a tiny box, aching and small. Finally, she says, “... Apollo, has he been telling the truth?”

“Yes, Athena, he has,” replies Apollo.

Athena clears her throat. “Then you have my apologies. I wasn’t… I don’t know if I could have talked to Father himself if he had intervened. I was too incensed. I felt much too violated. I saw your eye through the crack in the door and I assumed… I assumed…” Her voice broke. Artemis pats her hand.

“I get it,” murmurs Hermes. “You assumed I would act like Father would upon seeing a woman bathing.”

Athena nods.

“Well… I won’t. I have more self-control than that. I’d never do such a thing.”

Athena gives a long sigh. “You have no idea how relieving that is, little one.”

A fat, solid weight raises off of Hermes’s chest. He breathes out, feeling the coffee smell touch his lungs. It’s comfortable and good. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “I… I get… thanks.”

Athena gives a low laugh. “It’s not a problem.”

There’s a pause. Hermes shifts, his stomach fluttering with nerves. “Um… about what you said… about me loving you…”

“I was right. Don’t deny it.”

Hermes clears his throat. “... You were.”

Athena snorts. “Knew it. Since the first day, right?”

“Right.”

“And you know nothing will ever, ever come of that crush, right?”

Hermes swallows. “... Right.”

“Case closed,” Artemis cuts in. “Now scram.”

Hermes gives a stiff nod. He vanishes in a puff of white feathers, and the tears are stinging at his eyes before he can even reappear in his bedroom. He puts George and Martha back in their vivarium, picks up a glass jar and throws it as hard as he can.

_Of course._

It shatters on the floor and Hermes stares at it for a long time.

_Why would she care for someone like me?_

He wanders outside slowly, not bothering to fly. He sits by the edge of his little pond and watches as one of the turtles pokes its little head out, looks at him, then pulls back into its shell. 

_… I suppose more attractive men have tried and failed to win her. I guess it’s her, not me. I shouldn’t be upset._

_Then why am I crying?_

Tears splatter down onto his knees as he holds his legs close, shivering despite the balmy weather. His heart hurts and he doesn’t know _why,_ doesn’t understand why he’s so upset, doesn’t understand why Artemis told him off, doesn’t understand why he’s hurting so badly over one woman when he could have several with little effort, doesn’t understand anything anymore.

It’s a moment before he’s pulled into a gentle embrace, his head steadied against a soft chest. He looks up into a pair of clear cerulean eyes and he nearly sobs, clinging to Apollo like a lifeline. Apollo pulls him into his lap and holds him, rubbing his back. Despite his heartache, his tension eases at Apollo’s soft touch, his muscles relaxing involuntarily until he was nearly asleep in Apollo’s arms.

Hermes feels Apollo stand up. “... Where’re you takin’ me?”

“I’m putting you to bed, is that okay? I think you need to sleep.”

“Not tired.”

Apollo chuckles. “You can’t even open your eyes and look at me when you say that.”

Hermes hums, nuzzling closer to Apollo. A moment later, he feels himself being placed down on a soft, lax surface, blankets pulled about him as Apollo magically turns his clothes into more proper pajamas. Hermes forces his eyes open. “... What about…?”

“Artemis and Athena? I told Artemis that she shouldn’t talk to you that way. It’s not right. As for Athena, she’s forgiven you. You two are cool.”

“But… what about…”

“She’s not into you, man. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to break this to you in a way that won’t break your heart, but…”

Hermes buries his face in the pillow, groaning. 

Apollo rubs his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

Hermes doesn’t reply, only moves closer to Apollo.

“... Would you like me to sing to you?”

Hermes nods. 

Apollo takes his hand, humming softly. It’s not long before Hermes drifts off, lulled by Apollo’s beautiful voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermes did seem to truly love May.
> 
> Also, if you know where the title of this drabble came from, I have a lot of respect for you.


	172. Non-shippy-Apollo Kids Can't Lie (even when they want to)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo comes to visit his kids. He catches Will at a bad time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for self-harm, death mentions, suicidal thoughts, Will lashes out at Apollo, but apologizes shortly after.

Will’s insides were squirming. 

He felt sick. His whole body was trembling. His skin was crawling. His breaths came deep and heaving. His chest felt like it was being crushed against his ribs. Tears ran cold and slimy down his cheeks. He was leaning against the wall of the bathroom of the Apollo cabin, the only place he could get privacy, the only place he could get enough space to try and take away the pain. His mind screamed and he pulled at his hair, cries of  _ worthless… dirty… defiled… ugly… failure… burn alive… just die  _ howled in his head. 

His hands shook as he pulled the lighter from his pocket. Fingers that were normally so steady and sure--almost magically so--were barely able to press the trigger to make a flame appear. The hair on his arm singed away as he held the flame to the skin, watching it redden and blister. The pain was hot and intense and made him gasp and shudder, but it was cleansing, and would burn off the terrible, terrible pain in his heart. 

He pulled the flame away. A white oval of a blister was raised on his arm. He sniffled, a cold callus forming over the aching part of his soul, numb and weak. 

He put the flame back to his skin. He felt the pain so much more strongly this time. A quiet sob escaped his throat. Everything hurt. He couldn’t breathe. 

Someone knocked at the door. Will’s heart stopped. “Uh--occupied!”

“Can we talk after you come out?”

_ Shit. That’s Dad. Why is he even here? Is he just lonely?  _ “... Sure. Just let me… yeah. Give me a second.” He stood up, pulling a small jar of aloe from the cabinet. He rubbed his blistered skin with the cooling balm and pulled his sweatshirt back over his body, taking care not to disturb the wounds. He splashed water over his face and toweled himself off before leaving the bathroom. Apollo was sitting on his old cot, dressed in a black tee shirt with  _ Ninja Sex Party--Tour De Force, 2018  _ written on it. He almost looked like a regular guy. Will wondered if it was purposeful. 

“Will,” Apollo said happily. “How are you?”

“I’m…”  _ I’m sick. I’m in pain. I feel like crying. It hurts. It hurts so bad. Please, take it away.  _ “... I’m okay.” A tickle presented in the back of his nose and he sneezed into his sweater sleeve.

Apollo scanned him. “... Gesundheit.”

“Thanks,” Will sniffled. 

“... Are you okay?” Apollo’s voice was softer than he’d ever heard it. 

Will turned his head to hide the tears that were welling in his eyes. “... Fine. Yeah. I’m fi-” His voice was cut off by another sneeze. 

“Do you have a cold?” Apollo asked. He moved over to Will’s side and gently put his fingers on his forehead. “I don’t detect any illness in you.”

Will pulled away. “I’m fine.” He sneezed again and sniffled. “It’s just allergies.” More sneezing. 

Apollo shifted. “Perhaps… did you perhaps think I wouldn’t recognize the curse that I’ve been passing on for centuries? Will, I know you’re lying. Don’t try and hide it from me. Why must you lie about your emotions? I have cried on your shoulder, why must you avoid crying on mine?”

Will looked down. Tears teased their way down his cheeks. “... I… I… I didn’t want to… I don’t like… I’m not… I’m not comfortable leaning on…”

“You don’t like reaching out for help.”

Will shook his head. 

“Will you do it, just this once? I know I have no right to ask you for anything, but-- ah!” Apollo was cut off by Will jumping into his arms, knocking him backwards. He sat up, curling Will in his arms, nesting Will’s head against his shoulder. “Okay, beautiful boy. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Will sniffled, taking in the feeling of Apollo’s godly strength around him, his warmth. Quiet sobs escaped his lips and he trembled, sniffling thickly. Apollo rocked him back and forth like he was a little kid, kissing his soft locks. Will felt his turbulent emotions lull as Apollo held him, his ears rung slightly as the screaming thoughts quieted. Will didn’t dare do anything to break the peace. He’d never been this close to Apollo unless some sort of major emergency was happening, and he’d especially never been held and comforted by him.

Apollo traced a finger down Will’s shoulder until he hit the blisters Will had just made. Will tensed as the fabric of his sweatshirt hit the aloe goop and stuck in it. The pain of the irritated wound was trivial--Will had had much worse--but the raw humiliation of the ordeal was crushing. There was no  _ way  _ Apollo didn’t know what was under his shirt, what had caused it. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if Apollo was actively reading his mind. 

He swallowed and pulled away, the warm, comforting embrace suddenly feeling much too stifling. “... Yes, thank you so much. It was deeply appreciated. I’m better now, I promise.”

“... You’re almost as awful of a liar as I am,” Apollo marveled. 

“I’m not lying!” Tears of frustration pricked at his eyes and he blinked them away. “I swear, I really am better! See? My tell’s not going off or anything!”

“I know, but…” Apollo scanned him up and down. “May I heal those blisters on your arms? They can’t be comfortable, what with the sweatshirt fabric chafing on it and all.”

“No, no, really, I don’t want you touching it. I’m fine.”

“... My son.” Apollo looked like he was trying to figure out an intensely difficult puzzle. “... How did you get those blisters?”

“Climbing wall,” Will mumbled, feeling a tickle build in his nose again. Anger built in his chest as he sneezed for what felt like the millionth time. 

“Liar,” Apollo accused.

Will trembled with self-hatred and rage. The thoughts came screaming back into his head, even harder this time, and he only realized that the tears he’d been repressing had broken free when Apollo wrapped his arms back around him with a comment of “oh, my sweet, gentle son.”

“... Do you want an apology?” Will sounded overly bitter even to his own ears. He pulled himself free of Apollo’s embrace and glared at him. “Do you want a fucking apology? Do you want me to apologize for trying to take away the constant fucking pain I’ve been living with for I don’t even know how many fucking years at this point? Do you want an apology for it not being in the exact fucking way you want it to be?” A gasping sob broke from his throat; he wiped his eyes on his sweatshirt sleeve. “Maybe if you’d stepped in… ever, then I wouldn’t have to do this in order to feel like a normal fucking human being half the time!”

“... I’m… I’m so sorry.” Apollo sounded close to tears and, when Will dried his eyes enough to look up at him, he looked it too. “... You’re right. I should have done more. It’s my fault you’re hurting yourself, baby boy. I’m so sorry.”

Will sniffled. “... No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you so badly. It’s not your fault, not really. I’m just… I’m just hurting is all. And I lashed out because… because of that. It’s not your fault, it’s mine.” Will put his head in his knees, rocking back and forth. “... All my fault. Always my fault. Always…”

Apollo kissed his curly head. He didn’t say anything, just put a warm hand on Will’s back, which Will didn’t reject. Will reached blindly towards his father and Apollo obliged, cradling Will against him as Will twisted his fists in his tee shirt fabric. “Oh, my sweet son. Here, let’s get you into your bed. You’ll be much more comfortable that way.”

Will whimpered. He clung tighter to Apollo, a silent  _ please don’t let go of me.  _

Apollo lifted Will in his arms, grateful for his godly strength. He moved to what he knew was Will’s bed, sitting down to allow Will to lie against him. He saw a pink and orange blanket off the bottom of the bed and his heart nearly stopped. He remembered sitting with a heavily pregnant Naomi as she knitted it. He remembered watching as Will’s small body was wrapped in it for the first time. He remembered as Naomi’s sister--what had her name been? Emily? Emma?--had draped it around his shoulders to comfort him after Naomi had succumbed to illness. Stress. It had been stress. She’d worked herself too hard and her body was taken down by the first thing that had gone wrong with it. Apollo had cried until he couldn’t breathe. Hermes had had to come and check on him to make sure something hadn’t gone terribly wrong.

He picked up the blanket and wrapped it around Will’s shoulders before leaning in to bury his face in the soft fabric. He took a deep breath. His mind flashed back to Frank Zhang’s words in the bookstore with Tyson.  _ Don’t.  _ It wouldn’t help anything if he broke down. Will needed him to be strong. He needed his father, not another blubbering mess that he’d have to help and heal. 

“Why didn’t you heal Mom?” Will blurted, not raising his head from Apollo’s shoulder. “She died. Did you even know she died?”

Will couldn’t have hurt Apollo worse if he had stabbed him. “I’m so sorry, baby. Father… he wouldn’t let me. I tried, I really did, but he… he said…” Apollo swallowed. “... He said he would hurt me. If I tried. I’m sorry. I really am. I wish it meant more, but…”

“... You did what you had to do to stay safe yourself.”

“I should have saved her. I should have taken the punishment and saved her. I’m a… I’m a terrible father, Will, I really am. I’m so sorry.”

Will raised his head from Apollo’s shoulder, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “Maybe you are, but… you know, I can’t hate you. I wanted to. My whole life, I wanted to hate you. For ignoring me when I was in pain. For celebrating after Manhattan even though you lost so many of your own flesh and blood.”

Apollo audibly whimpered.

Will kept going. “... And… and then you landed… basically in my lap, and you were mortal, and fragile, and injured, and you were writhing and crying in your sleep, and I couldn’t hate you anymore. It’s hard to hate someone after you’re caring for them… medicating them… soothing them during nightmares…” He let his head fall against Apollo’s shoulder once more. “... I love you, you know that? You fucker.”

Apollo kissed his soft golden hair. “You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“... My head is spinning,” Will mumbled. And it was true. His head felt like it was full of water, heavy and useless. He couldn’t speak. 

“Rest it on me, baby boy. I’ve got you. Let’s make up for lost time, shall we?”

“Mm.” 

Apollo could hear the smile in that grunt. “And maybe… no more hurting yourself?”

Will didn’t respond. 

Apollo kissed his hair. “We’ll work on it. Don’t worry about it now. Just rest.”

“... Love you.”

“Love you too, honey.”


	173. Sherman/Miranda-The Earth, The Plants, The Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherman and Ellis hang out. Then Sherman and Miranda spend some wholesome couple time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real warnings, but Miranda seems a little sickly here bc previously mentioned eating disorders. It's never really mentioned, though.

“Wakefield?”

Ellis looked up from where he was sharpening his sword on a stone. “Fuck you want, Yang?”

“Do you think some demigods are more drawn to campers from certain cabins?” Sherman was sprawled in the grass nearby. The sun was setting, and Ellis was sure it was beautiful, but he couldn’t see it from where he was sitting. 

“I dunno, man. I don’t think godly parentage plays a role in who gets your pee-pee hard.” Ellis struck the stone against his sword, looking at the edge gleaming in the fading light. “I mean, there’s no reason why Ares and Demeter would ever be close. I mean, they don’t hang out.”

Sherman’s eyes darkened. “Don’t bring Miranda into this. I was only curious because… I dunno. I was wondering if you thought Ares kids would be… like… more attracted to Hermes kids or Aphrodite kids or some others.”

“Why Hermes kids?” Ellis asked. 

Sherman shrugged. “War and pillage.”

Ellis nodded. “Ah. I mean, if we’re going down that road, we could say Hades kids. War and death.”

“Don’t remind me of that fuckin’ di Angelo douche,” Sherman snapped. “Come on, man, I was having a good time.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll lay off,” Ellis snorted. “Didn’t know you were such a little pussyboy about this.”

“I’d refrain from talking shit when your sword isn’t even functional right now,” Sherman snorted. “Note the fact that I have a functional sword plus dagger.”

Ellis snorted. “Alright, tough guy.”

There was a silence. They both kind of wanted to beat the shit out of each other, but neither one of them had the energy. It was late in the day and they’d spent it training hard.

Finally, Ellis turned to Sherman. “Why’d you ask me about that godly parentage shit?”

“I dunno. Just kind of curious.” Sherman looked up at the dim purple sky for a moment, seeming to be searching for words. “... Hey, El, what kinda girls do you like?”

Ellis shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Come on, man. You’ve gotta have a type. Like how I like slender girls. Or maybe it’s more specific than that, like how I like belly button piercings and slender fingers.” Sherman counted on his fingers. “I mean, really, dude, you’re fifteen years old. You’ve gotta be into something.”

“Miranda’s not the type to have a belly button piercing, is she?” Ellis suddenly asked.

“Unfortunately, no. I’ve asked her once or twice if it would be something she’d be willing to do, but she’s always said it would hurt too much,” Sherman sighed. “Maybe I’ll convince her someday, though. Also, don’t change the subject.”

“I like brunettes,” Ellis said mildly. 

Sherman shrugged. “That’s valid. Yeah, hair color isn’t a big thing for me. What about race? Are you more into… like…”

“--Asians? Yeah, I’m  _ super  _ fucking into  _ Asians.” _ Ellis wiggled his eyebrows at Sherman.

“Yeah, shut the fuck up. If brunettes are your thing then you’re probably into white girls. Unless by ‘brunettes’ you mean ‘dark-haired people’ and not ‘brown-haired people,’” Sherman suggested.

“... Yeah, yeah, that’s what I meant,” Ellis replied. “And also, freckles are hot.”

“So, that’s… white girls or lightskinned mixed-race. All right,” Sherman mused. “Well, that’s all right. Also, do you like big titties or small? Or do you not care?”

“Don’t care,” Ellis shrugged. “They’re good in all sizes, I guess.” He struck the stone against his sword, hard.

Sherman scanned Ellis’s face. He didn’t meet Sherman’s eyes. “... All right,” Sherman said. “... Are you interested in anyone?”

Ellis paused for a long time. His hand stilled. Finally he huffed. “Nope. I don’t like any of the girls here.”

Sherman studied him. “I could find one for you.”

Ellis growled. “I don’t need your fucking help, Sherm. I can find my own damn female. Fuck off and leave me be.”

Sherman snorted and grinned. “Whatever you want, Ellieboy.” He stood up. “Anyway, it’s twilight, and Miranda and I are gonna take a moment to ourselves. I’ll see your garbage ass another time.”

“Fuck you, Sherm.”

Sherman just laughed. He walked to the strawberry fields. Miranda was sitting by a wheelbarrow full of pruned and dead branches and leaves, her head in her hands. He took a knee next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “You feeling okay?”

Miranda raised her head. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. I’m just tired. That’s all.”

Sherman put an arm around her slender back. “Here, let me help you. I can push the wheelbarrow. You’re okay to stand, right?”

Miranda stood up slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” She smiled at him, and the world felt a little warmer. “Thanks for volunteering to push.”

Sherman put his hands on the wheelbarrow. His face was warm. “It’s… it’s no problem.”

Miranda leaned a little into him and they walked to the Big House garage where Chiron had ordered them to put the pruned shrubbery. Sherman dumped the dead plants in the proper bags and turned back to Miranda, who in the dim light of twilight, looked suddenly very pale and thin. 

He moved and put his arm around her waist. “Wanna go back to my cabin?”

“Anywhere warm,” Miranda murmured, putting both her arms around him.

Sherman felt her shivering. He reciprocated the hug, rubbing her back. “Yeah, I’ll take you back to our cabin and we’ll cuddle a bit. You’ll be a little warmer then.”

Sherman felt Miranda smile into his neck. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Sherman picked her up. She barely weighed anything. Her long hair tickled his neck as he carried her. Her breath was warm on his collarbone. It was pleasant. 

He took her into the Ares cabin and sat her down on his bed. Ellis was already there. He didn’t even look at them when they entered. She untied her shoes and put them neatly by the bed before lying down. She held out her arms. “Come. You promised. Please.”

Sherman obliged. She snuggled close to his chest. She was warm, and she smelled like chlorophyll and tended earth. Her feet were cold. Her feet were always cold. Sherman had long since stopped minding it. 

“I love you,” Miranda mumbled into Sherman’s strong chest.

Sherman kissed her forehead. “Love you too, my little strawberry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first birthday of the drabble doc. It was started one year ago today. I felt like writing Sherman/Miranda was a good way to celebrate it, as that's how the doc started lol. 
> 
> I'm not gonna go on another "omg look at this we've come so far" rant, but it's pretty impressive that we've gone so far in only a year.
> 
> also I accidentally posted this chapter on my other longer fic (which you should totally read btw, it's called "I'll Take You For Who You Are (if you'll take me for everything)" and it's not bad) and now I'm fucking mortified lol


	174. Non-shippy-Percy Come Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyson's gleeful when Percy comes to visit him in his bookstore in New Rome.   
> As it turns out, Percy's a little less gleeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.   
> This is another angst about Jason's death. I know I did way too many of these back in April/May. But I really wanted to write Tyson comforting Percy, and this was what came to mind. I sat on it for a while, honestly. If you're tired of these, you can skip this one. I won't be mad.

It’s unusually cool for June when Tyson hears the knock on the door. 

Aristophanes rolls into an elevator-butt stretch, his tail swishing lazily. “Mrrow?”

“Kitty, kitty,” Tyson coos, picking up Aristophanes and carrying him down from his sleeping area to the door. His heart leaps at the sight of Percy on the other side. “Brother!” he squeals, grabbing him and pulling him inside. He crushes Percy against his broad chest and presses a wet kiss into his forehead. “I missed you so much!”

Percy doesn’t respond, and Tyson can feel him begin to shake in the hold. He lets Aristophanes jump free of his arms and gives Percy’s back a cursory pat. “Brother?”

Percy lifts his face from Tyson’s shirt and swipes his long fingers over his cheeks. “Tyson.”

Tyson cocks his head. “Your voice sounds strange. Why?”

It’s a long time before Percy responds. Finally, he whispers “Jason. He’s dead.”

“... Who?”

“Ja…” Percy’s voice is cut off by a gasp, “... son. The former Praetor. Jason Grace.” A tear falls from his chin and drips to the ground. 

Tyson reaches out, brushes his thick, strong fingers over Percy’s cheek and licks them, taking in the taste of his salt tears. His big heart twists. “Your friend.”

“My friend,” Percy whispers. His voice cracked hard. He studies Tyson’s shirt, not meeting Tyson’s big brown eye. 

Tyson puts his arms back around Percy’s body, stroking his hair gently, as if trying to calm a frightened kitten. “I’m so sorry, brother,” is all he says. 

Percy swallows. “It’s okay. Not your fault.”

“Shh,” Tyson eases, pulling him down against a shelf of books, rubbing circles on his back. “Do not fear. I will keep you safe.”

Percy only sniffles. He shivers slightly, pressing his face deeper into Tyson’s broad chest. Tyson’s fingers slowly work out the kinks in his spine, the tension, the exhaustion.

“... Where did you learn to give back rubs?” Percy asks, suddenly.

Even with his limited intelligence, Tyson can tell Percy’s deflecting, trying not to feel. “In Daddy’s realm. There was a nymph who… who got back pains all the time. She always wanted my help with them. So I learned.”

“Really? Dude, she was into you,” Percy sniffles. 

“What does that mean?”

“Never mind,” Percy sighs.

They sink into a comfortable silence. Tyson keeps his fingers rubbing softly over Percy’s spine, as gently as possible, trying not to bruise Percy’s skin. Percy feels small and fragile under Tyson’s touch, somehow, despite his immense power. 

It’s a long time before either of them speak again. Finally, Tyson murmurs “... Are you feeling better?”

“... I wish I was dead,” Percy mumbles. 

Tyson squeezes Percy against his chest, tears trickling uncontrollably over his misshapen face. “Brother, brother, please don’t say that!” He sniffles thickly and presses another wet kiss to the top of Percy’s head. “I want you here! I waited so long for you! Please!”

“‘Msurry.” Percy’s eyes sting terribly. He can’t breathe, quiet hiccups and whimpers break from his lips. “... Sorry.”

Tyson rocks back and forth for a moment before continuing. “... I wanted to die too, brother. Then… then I… then I met you. And I didn’t want to die anymore. And I don’t want… if you… if you die then I’ll hurt like that again and… and I… and that would hurt.” He sniffles. “Please don’t die. I love you.”

Percy spasms badly and a cry escapes his throat, small hiccups turning into gasping sobs as the cracked pieces of his heart shatter. He wonders briefly what it would be like for the gods to see this sight, their hero, broken and sobbing into the nearest willing body. He wondered if they would care. He could imagine them watching, shrugging, turning away. He didn’t matter. Jason didn’t matter. None of them mattered. 

Heroes came a dime a dozen, apparently. 

It’s not long before Percy cries himself out, the mix of exhaustion from the road trip and raw, stinging grief dropping him into a dull, semiawake state. Tyson’s hand rubbing gently on his back definitely isn’t helping. His breath comes slow and shallow, tears trail idly down his cheeks. “... Thanks,” he whispers, his voice rough. “... It means a lot.”

“You are welcome,” Tyson murmurs, gently patting Percy’s back. “Are you feeling a little better now?”

Percy sniffles. “... I can’t… it just… it hurts.”

Tyson rubs his back gently. “... Can I make it better?”

“No,” Percy whispers. “No. You can’t.”

“Where is Annabeth? Could she make it better?”

“She’s with Frank, Hazel and Grover. She’s… she’s heartbroken as well. I left her with them because… because I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t. She was too upset, I was too upset. We needed to be with people who didn’t have such an emotional stake in it.”

Tyson nods. “Okay, brother, I think I understand.”

Percy sniffles. “Yeah. It… I love her, but… sometimes it’s hard.”

“I know. I have a girlfriend too.”

“You know, when I told you to keep Ella safe, I really didn’t expect you two to fall in love,” Percy sighs, letting his eyes fall closed. 

“Is Brother not okay with that?”

“Brother’s fine with it. Don’t worry."

Tyson crushes Percy into an even tighter hug, and Percy doesn’t struggle against it; he bears the physical pain and lets Tyson’s pure affection hold his hurting heart together for as long as he can. Tyson smells like metal and old books, something Percy normally wouldn’t like, but on Tyson, smells reassuring. Percy’s body feels heavy and he’s so  _ tired,  _ he can’t do anything but lie against Tyson. Everything hurts, his heart radiates pain throughout his entire body. 

He’s almost asleep when a flapping of wings sounds above his head. He raises his head slightly and finds himself looking into Ella’s dark eyes. “Oh… hey.”

“Hey. Hay. Hay is for horses.  _ Hey There Delilah. _ Written for Delilah DiCrescenzo after the band’s frontman met her in 2002...” Ella flutters nervously.

Percy almost manages a smile. “Nice to see you too, Ella.”

“Percy is a good friend. But Tyson is a better friend.”

“Not a good enough friend to save Jason.” The words come out of Percy’s mouth before he can stop them. 

“Percy could have saved Jason. Percy saved Ella. Percy could save anybody.”

“Percy was all the way in New York. Percy is selfish. Percy didn’t help,” Percy shoots back.

Ella gives Percy a prolonged look of concern. Finally, she flies off, disappearing into the rafters. When she comes back, she’s holding a book in her talons. She pushes it into Percy’s hands. 

“ _ The Power of Forgiveness?  _ Thanks, Ella, but I don’t read,” Percy snorts. “And I especially don’t read shitty self-help books.”

Ella scans Percy with wide dark eyes for a very long time. Finally, she flies off, carefully reshelving the book and disappearing into the rafters, muttering all the way. 

“... You made her sad,” Tyson complains.

“Dude, if I actually tried to read that, I’d get a headache in two minutes. My reading skills are worse than yours by a factor of a hundred. Don’t get on my ass about this. Please.”

Tyson goes quiet. He holds Percy a little bit closer to his chest, ruffling his hair. Percy lets his eyes close again. His body is heavy, his eyes hurt from crying, and he only wants to sleep and not feel anything. Tyson’s holding him firm, but it’s comfortable. He can feel him breathing slowly, relaxedly. 

“Thanks, buddy,” Percy murmurs as he falls asleep.

Tyson looks down at Percy’s face. His eyes are puffy, dark circles shine under them. His lips are chapped and they’re moving slightly in his sleep. Tyson’s suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to protect him, keep him safe, keep him from tears. He stands up, gently cradling Percy in his arms. Percy’s a little heavy, but it’s not too bad, and he’s able to get Percy up to his cardboard box and wrap him in his blanket. 

He settles down to tinker on some odds and ends and wait for Percy to wake up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tyson comforting Percy is so, so valid. If you guys know any fics that are Tyson comforting Percy, please tell me.


	175. Percabeth, mentioned Solangelo-I Know I'm An Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy and Annabeth get a surprise on a visit to Camp Half-Blood. Draws on “Heart Owie” and “What Would Percy Do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real warnings, slight PTSD mention? idk
> 
> EDITED 2/2/21: I realized that I'd had Percy and Annabeth revisit CHB in "Blinded" (another fic I wrote, featuring Nico reacting to Reyna joining the Huntresses) and they'd have met up with Bob there. Edited this to reflect that (not much editing done, just changed the season this takes place to that August instead of later that winter). I don't know how in the hell I didn't catch that in editing the first time around, but I didn't, so I'm editing it now.

“... Anyway, it’s nice to see this place again.”

Dionysus looked up from where he and Nico were having a personal talk. Percy and Annabeth were climbing the steps up to the Big House. They'd arrived a few days before the visiting Romans for the anniversary of the Greek-Roman peacekeeping. He sighed at the sight of Percy. _Poseidon’s brood are all the same._ “Nico, can you handle this?”

Nico looked at him with somewhat reddened eyes. “Why do they need handling?”

“You-know-who,” Dionysus shrugged. “They don’t know that.”

Nico stared at the table for a few moments. 

“Nico,” Dionysus prompted. “Speak to me.”

Nico cleared his throat. “Right, right, of course. Thank you. I’ll…” He stood up. “I’ll do the honors. Yes.” He turned. “Annabeth? Percy?”

The pair turned. Percy’s face broke out into a grin. “Hey, Nico! Gods, it feels like it’s been ages.”

Nico lip twitched. “Yeah, it has been a while. Anyway, I just wanted to… uh… yeah.” He cleared his throat. 

“You wanted to tell us something?”

Nico shifted, his stomach filling with butterflies. “Yeah. Just that Mr. D got a new assistant, and--”

Percy’s expression darkened. “--And you need me to what, kill someone?”

Nico laughed. “No, no, nothing like that. This new guy is good. You’ll like him, I think.” He stretched. “I actually helped screen the guy.”

Percy nodded, cracking his knuckles. “Well, he’s about to get a new screening. Courtesy of me.”

“Percy, no,” Annabeth cut in. “I don’t know about you, but I think Nico’s got enough common sense not to bring an enemy into camp.”

Percy shrugged. “True. It’s not out of distrust of Nico specifically. I just want to screen this goon myself before I trust him.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Annabeth nagged. 

“I can promise you I will do the stupidest thing possible under the circumstances,” returned Percy. 

“Well, that we can all agree on,” Nico replied. He pushed his way into the Big House, gesturing for the couple to follow him. He led them up a flight of stairs and down a hallway, the inside feeling eerily quiet as opposed to the outside. The thin evening light filmed through the window at the edge of the hallway, striking off the dust in the air and landing in a stretched rectangle on the hardwood floor. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been here,” Percy mused. 

“That’s because there’s no reason for you to be here,” Annabeth replied. “This place isn’t ever used by normal campers. Even Will Solace doesn’t come up here, and he’s in the Big House all the time because of the infirmary. Speaking of Will, Nico, how is he?”

“He’s hanging in there,” Nico shrugged. 

“And you’re still dating?”

Nico turned around, raising an eyebrow. “Who told you?”

Annabeth’s lip twitched upwards. “Will told me. He was overjoyed. You should have seen it.”

Nico smiled slightly, imagining Will’s brightly smiling face, happy and kind. He shook his head and continued down the hallway to the second door from the end and knocked. 

“Yes?” 

Annabeth gasped, clamping her hand over her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. “No… it’s not… it isn’t _possible,_ he…”

Bob opened the door. Annabeth shrieked and tackled him in a hug. Bob flinched before catching her and cradling her in a hug, rocking her back and forth. Percy slumped to the ground, his face nearly expressionless before he pulled a heaving, shuddering breath, a few tears making a slow track down his cheeks. Bob reached out and pulled him in as well, snuggling them both as Annabeth scream-cried and Percy tried to stifle his sobs. Nico closed his eyes, trying not to cry in his own right. It was too jarring to see Percy trying to force himself not to cry. 

“... How?” Annabeth finally whispered hoarsely. 

“... I went back,” Nico admitted. “Will and I. I know some guys who are good at tunneling. I tunneled in, pulled him out and got the hell out. Will still got attacked, though. Bob and I barely got the monsters off of him in time.” Nico shuddered. 

Annabeth only stared. Her jaw was completely slack. Finally, she moved from Bob’s lap and took Nico into a tight hug. 

Nico patted her back. “I’m good. Trust me. I’m okay. You don’t need to hug me. I’m good.”

Annabeth let go of him, her eyes streaming tears again. “You are… the bravest… stupidest… little… I can’t _believe_ you…”

Nico cleared his throat and smirked. “Yes, I know I’m an idiot. Will tells me every day. And his siblings and our mutual friends sometimes do too. But this time it worked out.” 

Annabeth nodded speechlessly. She moved back to lean against Bob and Percy. Percy’s fist was balled in Bob’s shirt, his other arm pulled Annabeth close to his chest. Nico could still see Percy’s shoulders shaking slightly as his pain worked its way from his system. It hurt in ways he wasn’t prepared to explain. He took a deep breath and turned away. 

“Are you okay?” Bob asked. 

“I’m fine,” Nico sighed.

“Would you like to go back to your talkie time with Mr. D?”

Nico puffed his cheeks. “I think I would, actually.” He got up. “Take good care of them.”

“I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to write this reunion.
> 
> Also, random headcanon: Will's tattoo was originally going to be the Star Wars logo but Kayla (or maybe Rachel, or maybe both idk) talked him out of it because "you might like other things better someday, but you're always gonna be an Apollo kid, and you're basically a sunflower anyway so..." and eventually Will caved. 
> 
> Anyway, Lou Ellen did the tattoo stick-and-poke style on the Hecate cabin altar. EDIT: Did some thinking and decided that it would be a better idea to have Rachel do it bc Rachel can actually draw. So disregard what I said before. Rachel did it.


	176. Solangelo- You're Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will wakes Dionysus up begging for his help with Nico, who is having some kind of panic attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for panic attacks, but this is pretty soft.

Someone was shaking Dionysus awake.

He snorted and lifted his head, scowling at the intruder before he saw the fear in the cerulean eyes focusing on him. “Solace? You’d better have a good reason for waking me.”

“It’s Nico,” Will sobbed, tears running down his freckled cheeks. “He’s… I’m scared.”

Dionysus slung an arm over his eyes and heaved a deep sigh. “... Fine. Bring him here.”

Will ran out without another word. Dionysus sighed.  _ What the hell’s happening now? Has di Angelo finally lost his mind? What’s going on with the poor kid?  _

_ “Poor kid?” Fuck. I’ve gone soft. Oh, Fates, help me.  _

His thoughts were interrupted by horrifying screams in the distance. He sat up, furrowing his brow.  _ Fates, it sounds like someone’s being tortured. What in Tartarus is going on? _

The screams only got louder when Will burst back through the door, dragging a struggling Nico di Angelo behind him. He was thrashing. Dionysus crossed the room. Nico’s eyes were bright with fear. He was panting. His body was as stiff as a board. When Dionysus reached for him, he whimpered out a “Don’t touch me!”

“What’s wrong?” Dionysus asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor as Nico lay curled up in front of him. 

Nico didn’t respond. He wheezed softly.

Will put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“Don’t… don’t… don’t… touch… I’ll hu… hurt you.”

“Allow me,” Dionysus murmured. He took Nico’s tiny pale hand in his own, rubbing the back with his thumb. He focused in on Nico’s mind and sighed.

He was surrounded by enemies. No,  _ he  _ was the enemy. He was a force of terror and destruction and there was someone next to him who was soft and tender and so, so easily broken and that person was touching him gently and just generally being  _ soft  _ and  _ kind  _ and he  _ didn’t deserve this  _ and  _ everything was so wrong  _ and someone was holding his hand and it was too warm and too safe and he was way, way,  _ way  _ too vulnerable and he was trapped and he would be hurt and  _ nothing was okay  _ and he was going to throw up and he’d already thrown up twice and everything was bad and wrong and… 

… and he was so fucking tired. 

Dionysus focused on the tiredness.  _ It’s okay,  _ he thought.  _ You’re okay. Nothing bad will happen to you.  _

Nico shuddered and whimpered.

Dionysus continued.  _ You’re not terrible. You’re not going to hurt Will. You’re not the type. You can rest. You’re safe. _

Nico blinked. He squeezed Dionysus’s hand hard. Finally, he whispered, “I’m so sorry,” in a low, small, gravelly voice. 

“Please sit up,” Dionysus requested. 

Nico carefully picked himself up. He sat hunched over and hugging himself. 

“Would you like me to get Bob?”

Nico nodded.

“Okay,” Dionysus murmured. “Will, can you handle him?”

A few more tears dripped down Nico’s cheek. He gave a few more whimpering gasps. 

Will nodded. “I can always handle him.”

“Good. I’ll be right back.” Dionysus burst into a flurry of leaves. 

Will reached out. “May I touch you?”

Nico took Will’s hand and held it. Nico’s hand was tiny and freezing cold. Will wanted to rub his hands between his own and put fuzzy gloves on them. Will laced his fingers through Nico’s and held on tight.

Dionysus came back with Bob just a moment later. Bob knelt down by Nico’s side. “Does Nico have a heart owie?”

Nico nodded. 

Bob reached for him. “Does Nico need a hug?”

Nico crawled into Bob’s outstretched arms. Bob cradled him like he was a small child, rocking him back and forth gently. Bob leaned in and kissed Nico’s forehead with all the tenderness of a father. Nico whimpered quietly. 

Dionysus looked at the floor, biting his lip. The room radiated a powerful aura of peace, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He’d always been the most chaotic Olympian, which was saying a lot, because none of them were exactly peaceful. The comfort and kindness in the room was making his skin prickle. 

He stood up and crossed the room, looking out the window he had open. The air smelled nice and had the coolish spark of mid fall. The two Ares brutes--what were their names? Steve and Eli? Dionysus didn’t care--were fistfighting in the alley beside the Big House.  _ Ah.  _ Yes. That was the chaos that made Dionysus comfortable. A good old casual fistfight. 

He turned back. Nico was snoring quietly. Will was holding his hand. “Is he better?” Dionysus asked.

“He’s sleeping,” Will sighed. “I think Bob and I are going to watch him to make sure he doesn’t wake up screaming. But usually his nightmares are somewhat mitigated when I’m around.”

Dionysus shrugged. “You’ve got a comforting aura. I don’t blame him. Your father has the same deal. So did Asclepius. You’re a bit like him, honesty.”

Will blushed. “Well… um… we are brothers, after all.”

Dionysus snorted. “You’ve got more than a father in common, kiddo. Now, take Nico and Bob to the infirmary and get him to bed. He needs to sleep and so do I. Gods need rest too, you know.”

Will smiled. “Of course. Here, Bob, let’s go. I’m gonna get Nico all comfortable and safe in an infirmary bed. I’ll see you later, I guess.”

“Yeah. See you later, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone on AO3 informed me that today is Nico di Angelo's birthday, so I whipped this out in like 2 hours because he is a precious child and deserves it. Happy birthday, Nico!


	177. Solangelo, implied Loucil-Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico can't quite make it to the Apollo cabin after shadow-travelling back to CHB. So he does the logical thing and passes out in a snowbank on the front step. Will finds him in the morning and fixes him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for frostbite/cold related afflictions. Also, there's like, a weird amount of Will touching Nico's feet in this, but it's medical, not... you know.

The outside world was as cold as the shadows he’d come from. 

Nico stumbled a few feet. He could see the thin light coming from the lamps on either side of the Apollo cabin’s door. He could imagine Will sleeping within, warm and safe in his bed, or maybe sitting up, waiting for him. It was supposed to be a short errand. It had gone quite awry. 

He was so tired. It was only another step or two to the Apollo cabin. To safety and warmth. He staggered up and knocked at the door, spots dancing in front of his vision. His head felt light. 

No response. 

Sitting down wouldn’t be too bad. Sure, it was cold, and sure, it was snowing, but it wouldn’t be too damaging to rest for a moment. He sank to his knees on the step, leaning against the cabin wall. His eyes closed automatically. 

Before he lost consciousness, he had the faint thought that he wasn’t going to be able to just sit down for a second or two.

  
  
  


Will opened the door to take his siblings to breakfast. 

He was worried sick about Nico. Nico had left for a small fetch-quest the previous day, nothing major, he just needed a rat for something he and Lou Ellen were going to do. It was supposed to be a short errand, but Nico hadn’t returned. Will had suffered through the entire previous night, crying himself to sleep. His nightmares had been terrible. 

He was going to eat quickly and then try and distract himself in the infirmary. He bundled up, made sure Austin and Kayla were bundled up, and opened the door. 

He tripped over a bundle on the front step, half-covered in snow and trembling. He brushed off the snow and yelped.  _ “Nico!” _

Nico didn’t respond. Will could see the waxy frostbite in his nose, his cheeks. He could tell that there was probably some in his fingers and toes as well. Thank the gods, it wasn’t gangrenous. He pulled Nico into his arms. “Never mind. Fuck breakfast. Nico needs help. I’m taking him to the infirmary. You two can… can either go to breakfast or help me, whichever.”

“We’re not abandoning him,” Kayla said flatly. “We’re helping you.”

Will nodded. “Okay. You get the electric blanket from the closet and take his backpack to Lou Ellen, I think there’s a rat in there she wanted. Austin, come with me.” He ran for the infirmary as fast as he could, bursting into a private room and laying Nico in the bed. “Okay. Austin. You go boil some water on our hot plate. Boil as much as you can. Get me a hot water bottle from the closet and put the rest in tubs. Bring me the water and some cloths.”

Austin nodded and bolted. Will sighed. He took Nico’s feet in his hands, peeling off his shoes and socks. His toes were covered in more waxy frostbite and his socks were soaked and freezing. He gently blew on the freezing flesh, trying to warm him. Nico moaned in pain. “Shh, shh, baby,” Will soothed. “I know it hurts, but it’s what we have to do. If I don’t help you, your feet could rot, and you don’t want that.”

Nico seemed to settle slightly. Will slipped his finger underneath his toes, rubbing the flesh gently, feeling it warm under his touch. Finally, when Nico was sufficiently warmed, Will moved on to the other foot. Nico didn’t respond. Will prayed the warmth would reach his center. Nico’s toes twitched slightly as Will rubbed them. A vague color returned to the flesh when he held it, a light shade of pink flushing the balls of his toes. 

Austin returned then, carrying a tub and a hot water bottle. Will took it from him. He dipped his finger in the water, finding it slightly uncomfortably hot, but not hot enough to burn, at least not rapidly.  _ Thank gods.  _ He took the cloths, dipped them in the hot water and wrapped Nico’s feet, then his hands, wrapping strips of cloth over each tiny, bony finger, trying to ignore the way Nico whimpered at the discomfort of his thawing fingers. He draped warm, wet cloths over Nico’s nose and cheeks, holding his hands over them, lending Nico some of this own warmth. Nico’s brow furrowed further at the melting sensation in his face. Will kissed the little wrinkles before standing back up. “Hot water bottle.”

Austin handed him the hot water bottle. Will wrapped it in a pillowcase and laid it on his chest, folding his small hands over the bottle. 

At that point, Kayla, Lou Ellen and Cecil came banging through the door. “How is he?” Kayla blurted breathlessly. 

Will jolted. He looked over at his friends-- _ their  _ friends. “Fine. Will you go get me the big quilt from the closet, and the fleece blanket as well?”

“Both of them?” The shock was evident on Kayla’s face. 

“He was outside all night in a thirteen degree winter. Yes. Both of them.”

Kayla nodded mutely. She dashed out of the room and returned in a second with two massive blankets balled in her arms. 

“Here, help me with these.” Will and Cecil took the fleecy blanket and wrapped Nico in it, Will making sure his feet were wrapped tightly. 

“How’s the rat?” Will asked as he and Cecil draped the heavy quilt over Nico, pulling it up to his nose, making sure he was warm and safe.

Lou Ellen shrugged. “Fine. A little cold and dehydrated, but we gave it a little water and a hot water bottle and it seemed to like that. So it’s all right.”

Will nodded. “Smart. If Nico’s out for too much longer I’ll have to give him fluids, too, but I think he’s okay for now.” Will bundled the quilt over Nico, pulling it up to his nose. 

“Thank the gods,” Lou Ellen sighed. “You have no idea how shitty I felt when I realized Nico had spent the whole fucking night passed out on the step of your cabin. Especially when I was awake the whole fucking time.” She shook her head. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Cecil soothed. He put an arm around her shoulders. “There was no way you could have known.”

Lou Ellen sighed a little. “Yeah, I guess.”

Cecil patted her shoulder silently, yet reassuringly. Will sat down to keep vigil over Nico until he awoke.

  
  
  


When Nico woke, there was a weight on his chest. 

Fear jolted through him. Had he been buried? Could anyone hear him? No, he was warm, he couldn’t have been buried in snow. And gods, he was  _ so  _ warm, it felt wonderful, beautiful,  _ safe.  _ Something hot was on his chest, his hands were on it. His hands were wrapped in something warm and damp. He couldn’t move his feet. 

He whimpered a little and a soft hand stroked over his cheek. “Shh, shh, baby,” came the whisper, soothing and gentle. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Nico leaned into the touch, giving a soft hum.  _ Will.  _ Of course Will would find him. Will always found him. Fleetingly, he wondered if he should reach out and take Will’s hand, but the cocoon of warmth he was in was too comforting. He forced his eyes open. Will was hanging over him, his eyes lit with gentle tiredness and soft concern. “Nico! You’re awake!”

Nico grunted. “... Yeah.”

Will stroked his forehead. “You good?”

Nico studied the freckles on Will’s cheeks. “... Warm.”

“Too warm?”

Nico grunted in the negative. 

Will breathed out. “Good. Nothing hurts?”

“... Fingers are a little sore. Cheeks and nose, too.”

“Yeah, you got frostbitten,” Will explained, continuing to stroke his cheek. “Not badly, though. You’re okay.”

Nico gave a sigh of relief and let his eyes close again. 

Will gently rubbed his eyelids. “Don’t sleep yet. I’d like to give you some nectar first.”

Nico forced open his eyes. Will pulled him into an embrace and Nico tucked his head into the soft crook of his shoulder, letting himself drink in the heat, the smell of his shirt. Will laid him back on a soft fluffy pillow and kissed his forehead. Nico sighed in bliss. He didn’t think he’d ever get over how Will’s lips felt on his skin. Will put a straw to his lips and he drank. He could taste the mix of Gatorade and nectar on his tongue. 

“Thanks,” Nico whispered. 

Will took his hand. “When you’re feeling better, our friends want to see you. How does that sound?”

Nico gave a small smile. “... Nice,” he managed. “Tell them I’m… tell them I’m okay for me, okay?”

Will kissed his lips. Nico nearly swooned himself unconscious off of that alone. “Will do, darlin’. Are you going to get a little bit more sleep?”

Nico nodded. 

Will gave his hand a small squeeze. “Okay, sweet little dark lord. You rest. I’ll take care of everything, okay?”

Nico let his eyes close, kicking the sheets to let him curl up on his side. Will gently pulled the sheets off of his feet and unwrapped the dressings he’d put there, holding his feet carefully and warmly before tucking the blankets around them again. Will held his hand, rubbing the back gently. It was soothing. 

“... Love you,” Nico mumbled, in the space between waking and sleep. 

“Love you too, darlin’,” Will whispered, kissing the back of his knuckles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been snowing where I live for a little while and I just needed some soft warm fluffy Solangelo where Nico gets cuddled and snuggled and wrapped in blankets lol


	178. Non-shippy (mentioned Apollo/Naomi, Apollo/Hyacinthus)-Warm Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo needs a hug. Apollo *really* needs a hug.  
> Unfortunately, what he's having at this moment is a bottle of wine, a light rain and an abandoned hyacinth field in the middle of nowhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of child abuse, Apollo is drunk and it's not an attractive drunk.

It was a warm night.

Apollo was sprawled out in a field somewhere in the Midwest, alcohol churning in his gut. Pale purple hyacinths grew around his body, cradling him, his body felt swollen and weak and burning hot all at the same time. A thin rain peppered his golden skin. It didn’t cool him in the slightest, and he cursed his father for not allowing him one simple relief. 

His booze-hazed brain traced over the last four thousand or so years, thinking back to the very beginning, his childhood on Delos, his first time driving the sun in Helios’s place, every second under Zeus’s watchful eye. Severe punishment if he messed up, of course. He remembered the first time Zeus smote him, the pain searing every fiber of his being, clinging to Leto once he reformed, her arms wrapping him kindly and safely as he wept. He remembered, with increasing haze, the second, third and fourth smitings. After that, he couldn’t remember them anymore. 

He took another sip of his drink, the wine thick and heavy on his tongue. It curdled in his stomach and he leaned his head to the side, giving a wretched belch into the soft purple petals.

Fates, he felt disgusting. 

He realized suddenly that he couldn’t remember a single positive memory he had of his father. It was all smitings and cruelty. All shuddering fear. All wanting to hide behind his throne whenever Zeus entered the room. It had always been the worst when Leto had been dead or reforming. Without any fear of Leto being angry, Zeus could whale on him all he wanted, and without any mother to run to, he was usually alone to lick his wounds if Artemis was with the Hunt. He knew he was obnoxious, but was it really fair that they always chased him off with bows and arrows? Was it really fair that he was always left with pain in his everywhere and everything when he only came seeking entertainment or comfort? 

He rolled over and scratched at a place where the light purple flowers were itching him. The muck that was beginning to soak into his skin didn’t help. He thought of Hyacinthus, of lying in the grass with him.  _ You deserve to be comforted,  _ he would have said.  _ Come. Lie with me. I’m sure you’ve got enough on your plate, without having to impress me on top of everything else.  _ And Apollo would have gone, oh, Fates, he would have gone. He would have gone and taken the comfort, the kisses, the feeling of being loved and caressed and moved against and snuggled. He would have drank up every second of it, loved every second of it, returned every kiss and touch and soft comment. 

Something warm flowed down his temples, he touched his face, he was crying. He took a deep breath, but the tears were coming too fast and hard, and he couldn’t stifle them. He closed his eyes, gasping through the thick fluids that clogged his nose and throat. It was too warm and his body was too heavy and he just felt  _ nasty  _ and he wanted Hyacinthus or Artemis or Hermes or Leto or Naomi Solace or his gentle son Will or his long-suffering son Austin or his sweet daughter Kayla or anyone, really. He’d take a stranger, even a cruel one, if he could feel someone acknowledge him, say his name, make him feel like he  _ existed  _ and wasn’t just some little worm down in the dirt to be trod on by everyone.

He took another sip of his wine. His stomach cramped hard. Was that all that was in his stomach? Wine? Or had he had a feast beforehand? Maybe they had had one of their big Olympian feasts. Maybe Zeus had yelled at him at the banquet, and that had been what made him sad. Or maybe none of that had ever happened. Maybe he’d been here all day. Maybe he’d been drinking all day and the alcohol that was sloshing around painfully in his stomach was what was making him sad. 

He wondered where he was. He didn’t remember how he got there. All he remembered was the crushing sensation in his chest, the sadness, the ache, the tears he wanted to shed but couldn’t, not in front of everybody. He just needed to be alone. Well, he seemed to have gotten his wish. 

He rolled to his side and groaned, holding his stomach. The pain was dull and constant and he couldn’t throw anything up--gods almost never threw up unless they were in true agony--so he couldn’t even relieve it. The world was spinning rapidly. He couldn’t even  _ think  _ about sitting up, much less attempting to return to Olympus. He let his eyes close. Everything was too heavy, hot and slow.

He didn’t know how long he lay there before he realized someone was stroking his hair. 

He tried to lift his head, but the world was still spinning too badly. His eyes clouded with fog when he saw the kindly eyes of his mother looking over him. “... Mama,” he croaked. 

Leto cupped his cheek. “My son. Your brother Hermes told me you would be somewhere like this.”

Apollo blinked, trying to comprehend why Hermes would have had any idea where he was, then realized  _ oh, right, hyacinths  _ and leaned his head against his mother’s leg. “... Mmkay.”

Another touch settled on his hip and he flinched before looking over and seeing Hestia sitting by him. He shuddered through a sob and held himself as everything broke loose under the strain of alcohol and grief and abuse _.  _ Leto pulled him into an embrace, holding him like he was a child, rocking him back and forth. He clung to her like he was a little kid again and cried into her chest as her soft, cool hands rubbed out the pains in his body. She’d taken a while to reform the last time she’d been killed, and when she’d managed to raise herself out of Tartarus, it had been right before he and Artemis had had to go into hiding on Delos. Needless to say, it had been a while, and Apollo was more than happy to soak up the soft affection after so long. The sobs twisted at his chest, but she held him firm, and that was enough for him. 

She kissed Apollo’s forehead. “Would you like to come and stay with me tonight?”

Apollo only nodded. 

“Okay, baby boy. I’m gonna take you back to my place. Hestia, will you let the others know he’ll be back tomorrow?”

Hestia nodded. She leaned in and cupped Apollo’s cheek, kissing his forehead. “Stay safe, won’t you?”

Apollo managed a nod. 

“I love you, okay, sweetie? Please, take care of yourself. It hurts to see you like this.”

Apollo whimpered out a sob and clutched her hand, pressing a sloppy kiss into the palm. 

Hestia smiled. “Goodnight, love. Sleep well.”

Apollo couldn’t respond. He closed his eyes as Leto lifted him up. Teleportation yanked through his gut, sending the wine sloshing up to his tonsils. He groaned before feeling himself being laid on a soft, fluffy bed, his clothing magically changed to pajamas, the filth wicked away from his skin. A cool pillow was laid under his head. He sniffled out a few more drunken sobs before Leto took him in a spoon hug, bracing his body against her own, warm but not too warm. She didn’t say anything, and neither did he. 

Between the alcohol and her safe embrace, it didn’t take long enough for the painful, screaming thoughts to quiet enough to let him, finally, drift into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apollo just... is so fuckin' important to me...


	179. Percabeth, Solangelo-Taste of the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy has a bad New Year's. Will and Tyson help out 'cuz they're bros.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for unintentional triggers of past trauma, nonfatal overdoses. Also, this is never actually mentioned in the fic but the Greeks are visiting New Rome for New Year's and that's why Will and Nico are there.

_ Shut up.  _

Percy’s feet slammed against the ground as he ran. His head was spinning. His eyes wouldn’t stay open. A harsh, bitter taste lingered on his tongue. A cold rain pelted his skin. He only wanted to sleep. 

_ Shut up.  _

It was New Year’s. He’s found Annabeth with a glass of champagne in her hand. He told her not to kiss him with booze on her tongue. She’d asked him why it was such a big deal to him, he’d been evasive and somehow they’d wound up yelling at each other. She’d eventually said that, if he was just gonna be grumpy, he should leave her alone so she could at least enjoy herself for once in her life. Hazel had offered to walk him back to his dorm, but he didn’t want to face anyone, so he’d refused. He’d started running and just hadn’t stopped. He’d left Terminus in his dust. He assumed Riptide was in his pocket, but he hadn’t bothered to check. He was running down the median line of a dark, tree-lined street, his heart slamming out of his ribs, his breath heaving with every footfall.

_ Shut up. _

His mind was spinning in circles. His chest was a bag of broken glass. He just wanted the screaming in his head to stop, the ever-present noise that was slowly, slowly breaking him, every second of every day, gradually picking away at the fiber of his being. The edges of his cracks were sharp. 

_ Shut up.  _

He’d just wanted to sleep. He hated New Year’s. He just wanted to sleep through the whole ordeal, wake up on New Year’s Day and not deal with the alcohol or the partying or the drunks. His roommate, a son of Mercury, had agreed to give him a little something extra to help him sleep, but it hadn’t quieted his mind. One had gone down, then two, then two more and before he knew it there were seven sleeping pills curdling in his stomach and they  _ still wouldn’t leave him alone.  _ “Shu… shut up,” he wheezed. “Shut up.” He gritted his teeth, his chest heaving. “Shut up!” 

His feet hit something and there was nothing in him left to recover. He hit the ground like a sack of bricks. He felt the skin on his knees and elbows tear against the asphalt. His body burned as he slumped bonelessly to the ground. The contents of his stomach oozed up to his tonsils. He panted. 

In the back of his mind, he figured lying in the middle of the road in the dark and the rain was a terrible idea. He crawled on his skinned elbows and knees to the roadside. His fingers scrabbled against the side of a gulley and he sat against it, leaning his head back, feeling the cold rain on his face. He didn’t try to keep himself dry at all. He held his sensitive stomach gingerly, panting as heat drifted over him in waves. 

His mind drifted into a sea of nausea. Blessedly, the screaming in his head was drowned out by the burning in his stomach, the stinging in his elbows and knees. He felt blood running down the back of his arms. He couldn’t have cared less about it. 

He thought of his mother. He tried to remember how she’d medicated him when he had stomach aches. It was something involving a tea, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what exactly was in it. 

Not like he could have gotten whatever it was here, anyway. 

He wished his mother was there. She would have picked him up-- _ no she wouldn’t, she’s like a foot shorter than him and almost fifty pounds lighter-- _ and carried him home-- _ no she wouldn’t, he’s at the other side of the country from her, and she hadn’t flown on a plane since the accident, and he didn’t have a home here anyway, just a bed in a room he shared with another guy-- _ and made sure he was safe and warm and made sure he had a bucket if he needed to vomit. Something warm mingled with the cold rain on his cheeks. He was numb, so numb, but he felt his little shards clinking and tinkling their way through his insides, pricking and tearing his heart and his stomach as they went, and he felt it strongly. 

Another sound cut through all the noise. Distantly, he recognized it as a human voice. “Fuck off,” he grumbled. “I don’t have the fucking energy for…” His stomach cramped so violently it made him see stars; it was a moment before he could open his mouth, “... for any fucking drunks.”

“... you okay?” came the reply.

Percy wanted to nod, but he couldn’t force himself to move his head. He grumbled.

Someone put their hand on his head, tilting it forwards. Percy groaned in pain. The voice came again, clearer this time. “Are… you… okay?”

Percy managed to crack his eyes. A blurry yellow blob hung over him. “‘M fine. Goway.”

“Percy, look at me.” Whoever it was moved his head again. Percy really wished they’d stop doing that. “Did you take something? What did you take?”

Percy couldn’t remember the name of the pills. Some kind of tranquilizer. “... I dunno.”

“Do you need me to call someone?”

“Call my mom,” he managed.

“Your mom’s in New York.” Was that  _ Nico?  _ Nico wasn't blond, though, and he didn’t seem to be the type to dye his hair. Then who the hell was that other guy? “Us calling her wouldn’t do anything but worry her. Would you like us to call Annabeth?”

“... No,” Percy managed. “Call…” His brain slowly picked through the list of people he knew, “... Tyson.”  _ He’s not busy. He’ll give me a place to sleep. _

“Okay, no way in Hades am I calling Tyson. Can you stand?”

Percy thought. He shook his head. 

“Okay.” The voice came again. “I’m going to take you back to where I’m staying. It’s a hotel room, so just private enough. I’ve got a big med kit back there, lots of ambrosia and nectar. We’re gonna make you okay, alright, man?”

Percy didn’t have it in him to refuse. He felt arms hook under his own. His stomach lurched violently as he was pulled up, arms grabbing hold of him, under his arms, on his ankles, pulling him along. They lay him on a surface that was vaguely soft, but did not give under his weight. He heard a motor start, felt his body shift as the car (he assumed) moved. He groaned as his stomach twisted, but once the car settled into its motion, his stomach settled a little and his mind went slowly blank.

  
  


He drifted through a series of very strange, nightmarish dreams. 

The first one, he had been skewered like a shish-ka-bob, the stake going in his mouth and out his rear end. He was being carried by each end of the skewer by two tall figures. He couldn’t tell who they were. There was a thin fog around him. He heard water splashing below, but it seemed far away. They placed his skewer over some kind of raised pyre. He was hot, but not burning. He wondered, too calmly, why he wouldn’t burn. Surely if they were trying to grill him he would burn, right?

Then the dream changed. He was standing by Estelle’s crib. He couldn’t see her. When he approached her crib to pick her up, she opened her mouth, revealing sharp, jagged fangs and a slimy, black tongue. She bit him hard on the hand. He watched paralyzed as the same black slime that had coated her tongue spread from the wound, through his veins, to his heart, and everything went black. 

He saw snippets of things, his mother smiling at him, Annabeth’s angry face, Jason walking into fog and vanishing. He reached for Jason, but couldn’t quite touch him. Then there was a great grinding stone in his stomach, choking his throat with sand, and then he was retching and retching and his body was jerking hard and someone was holding him and there was a bucket and he couldn’t stop puking. Someone put a cool something on his head and lay him on his side and he had no more dreams.

When he woke for good, his stomach felt sore and empty and his throat hurt and his mouth tasted vile.

He groaned out and someone put a cool hand on his head. He opened his eyes. One big brown eye stared back at him, concerned, caring. He swallowed back the lump in his throat. “... Ty.”

Tyson put his hands on Percy’s cheeks. “Brother!” He pressed a wet kiss to Percy’s head. “You’re okay?”

Percy couldn’t help but lean into the touch. Tyson’s hands were callused, yet soft. “I’m… I’m okay, I think,” he murmured. “I can’t believe they called you.”

Tyson puffed his chest and smiled, pulling away and gently patting down Percy’s ever-present bedhead. “Wild horses could not keep me away, brother.” 

Percy was quiet. He looked around. He was in a hotel room. Nico and Will were sitting across from each other, playing Go Fish. Percy wasn’t going to interrupt, but Tyson turned around and announced, “He is awake!”

The two of them raised their heads. Will ran over to him. “You okay, man?”

Percy blinked. “... Yeah, I’m… alive.”

Will snorted. “Obviously. Anyway, how are you feeling?”

Percy thought. “Uh… I have to piss.”

“No, I mean… how’s your stomach?”

Percy thought. “... Tender? Weak? I don’t know.”

“Makes sense,” Will nodded. “You put yourself through a hell of a lot last night.”

“... Did I actually throw up on someone, or was that just a weird dream?” Percy asked.

“You threw up, but I got a trash can under you before you got it all over me,” Will confirmed. “Percy, what did you take?”

“Just a couple of sleeping pills,” Percy insisted.

Will raised an eyebrow. “So… two? Three? How many? Because you were out of it when I found you.”

Percy sighed and stared at the ceiling. “... Seven, I think. Maybe eight.”

“Oh, Percy.” Will’s voice was soft. “You never need that many.”

“They weren’t working,” Percy insisted through a solid lump in his throat. “I was trying and trying and trying but they weren’t working.”

“You need to give them time to work, man.” Will shook his head. “You can’t just pound them until you pass out, that’s how you get sick. I mean, what kind of pill was it?”

Percy swallowed. “He got it off a Hecate kid who makes them. He bragged you couldn’t get it in any store.”

Will visibly recoiled. “Oh, gods, that could have had anything in it. No wonder you got sick. I should have taken you to the hospital. May I touch your belly?”

Percy nodded. “Sure.”

Will put a gentle hand on Percy’s gut, gently prodding him. “Okay, I don’t feel anything too terrible. But keep an eye on yourself, okay?”

Percy sighed. “Will do.” He pushed himself into a sitting position, pulling the sleeping bag around himself. Tyson wrapped him in his arms. Percy relaxed into the hold, closing his eyes. He thought of last night, of Josh and his pills, of sleeplessness, of his fight with Annabeth, of Hazel and…

Annabeth. 

He wondered if she was still mad. She could stay mad for a long time if she wanted to. He sighed. “Hey, did any of you see Annabeth last night?”

“Saw her briefly at about quarter after midnight. She was leaving with a couple other girls, Hazel and two others I didn’t recognize. Hazel was kind of herding the group. I tried to call out to her, but she didn’t hear me,” Will replied. “She looked okay, though, maybe a little tipsy but not full-on drunk or anything.”

Percy was quiet for a long time. Finally, he looked at the floor and grumbled, “I should go.”

Will seemed visibly taken aback. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m… I need to find Annabeth. See if she’s still pissed at me.”

Will sighed. “... Ooookay. Just… be careful, okay? If you start feeling sick, hit the hospital. Please.”

“Yeah,” Percy mumbled. “Thanks for not letting my ass sleep on the side of the road in the pouring rain. Means a lot. Also for calling Tyson. Also means a lot.”

Will shrugged. “No problem, man.”

“And sorry for ruining your New Year’s.”

“You didn’t. We found you at one in the morning. And I like taking care of people.”

“Damn, that late?”

Will nodded. “Yup.” He popped the P. “So, how long were you lying there before we found you?”

Percy thought. “An hour or two?”

Will sighed. “I’m sorry, man.”

“Why are you apologizing for not saving my ass earlier than you did?”

Will thought. Then he chuckled, his face breaking out into a bright grin. “Sorry, man. Force of habit.”

Percy managed a wan smile in return. “Yeah, no problem.” He stood up. “I’ll seeya. Will. Nico.”

“I will come with you,” Tyson insisted stubbornly. 

Percy nodded. “Yeah. Ty. Come on. Hey, uh… Will, Nico, can I use your bathroom first?”

Will snorted. “Yeah, sure, man. Just don’t mess it up too badly. I don’t want to pay damages on this joint. And I’ve heard the stories about you.”

Percy snorted. “Yeah, no, I won’t blow up any plumbing. Don’t worry about me.”

  
  


Tyson and Percy were halfway there by the time either of them spoke. 

Tyson gulped a little. “... Um… Brother?”

“You should have gone before we left,” Percy replied, a little snappishly.

“I don’t need the bathroom,” Tyson insisted. “I… brother, why do you hate the people who drink at the party?”

Percy’s fingers clenched around the steering wheel of the Prius, which Percy had ditched on a side street when the urge to run had overcome him the previous night. Fortunately, he’d remembered where he parked it. “Because it’s a bad drink that makes bad people do bad things, that’s why.”

Tyson thought on this. “... But not all of them are bad people. I know a lot of them. A lot of them are kind.”

“Kind people become cruel when they drink that stuff. It’s like a magic potion.”

Tyson knotted his one great brow. “... Why do the Praetors allow it to get served, then?”

Percy slammed on the wheel. “Godsdammit, Ty! Why won’t you just listen to me?” He huffed a breath. “They don’t believe it’s evil like I do, that’s why they serve it.”

Tyson was quiet for a long time. 

Percy looked over at him. His big eye was wet with tears. Percy sighed. “I’m sorry, man. Don’t cry. We’re good. I’m not mad at you.”

Tyson wiped his eye. “Yes, brother.” 

Percy reached over and took Tyson’s hand. Tyson squeezed it back and slightly relaxed. When Tyson spoke again, his voice was small. “... Brother?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

Percy sighed. “... I’m… look, man… I… I’ll be okay, man. Don’t worry.”

Tyson put a hand on his shoulder. “Okay, brother.”

  
  


Percy parked the car near Annabeth’s dorm. “Stay in the car, okay?” Percy started. 

Tyson nodded. 

Percy was glad he didn’t fuss. He didn’t want to bring a massive cyclops into a girls’ dorm. The dorm was silent. He only saw one other person, a woman he recognized as one of the RAs. She barely glanced at him, which he appreciated. 

He knocked on her door. Her roommate answered, looking absolutely trashed. The girl’s--Rebecca’s--dark hair stood up in all directions. Her gray eyes--disconcertingly like Annabeth’s--half-focused on him. “Wha?”  
“Is Annabeth awake?”

“Annie! It’s your boy!”

Annabeth appeared at the door. She looked only marginally cleaner than Rebecca did. She was still in pajamas. Her hair was wild. “Percy?”

“Are you still pissed at me?” Percy blurted. 

Annabeth cocked her head. “What…? Oh, no. We’re good. I just… I’ve literally  _ never  _ gotten to party and have fun and be happy before. I just… I wanted one night. And you were kind of trying to take that from me. Or that’s what it felt like, anyway.” 

“... I’m sorry,” Percy managed. “I don’t like alcohol. Kind of makes me bad at parties. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I’m not normally a partier either, but I wanted the experience, you know?” Annabeth shrugged.   
Percy thought. “I guess I get it.”

“Nice.” Annabeth smiled at him. “We’re good.” She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against his lips…

… and she still tasted like alcohol. 

Percy pulled away and gagged as violent pain took over his stomach again. He took a few deep breaths to avoid retching all over the cheap dorm carpet. He looked up. Annabeth’s eyes were filled with horror. “... Sorry,” he managed.

“... Are you… okay?” Annabeth’s voice was faint.

“You still taste like alcohol,” Percy managed. 

Annabeth’s face shifted between offense, horror and concern. “... It’s that bad?”

Percy nodded. “I  _ really  _ don’t like alcohol.”

“Damn,” Annabeth whispered. “Okay. Look, Percy, I’m sorry for last night. I didn’t know how bad it was for you.”

Percy wiped his mouth. “We’re good.”

Annabeth reached up and ruffled his hair. “If I clean up and brush my teeth, would you want to go to our special place and hang out?”

“Yeah, but we’d have to get Tyson out of the way first,” he sighed. “He’s been clinging to me since… for a while now.”

Annabeth scanned his face. “... Okay. Tyson listens to me. I can get him off our tail. Do we have a plan?”  
Percy smiled. Relief unspooled in the pit of his gut. “Sounds like a plan, Wise Girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending of this kind of sucked but I hadn't posted in a week and I felt really bad for that, so here's a something. I really missed writing about Percy. Sometimes I just need my boy.


	180. Mentioned Solangelo-Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's concerned about the future. Chiron assures him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real warnings.

“Mr. Solace?” 

Will raised his head. Chiron had trotted into the Big House living room where Will was sitting on the couch. Chiron couldn’t help but think he looked morose. “Yeah?” Will responded.

“Are you all right?”

Will sighed. “Yeah, just… just thinking.”

Chiron took a seat in front of Will. “What about?”

He shook his head. “... The future. I just… I’ve always wanted to go to med school, but what med school would take in a kid who dropped out freshman year? Or a kid who never took the SAT?”

Chiron gave Will a small smile. “Well, you’re smart. You know how to read as well as a dyslexic ever does. You have at least some mathematical education. I’ve gotten much worse into college. I don’t know if we can get you to the Ivy League, but I’m sure we can do something. Have you considered New Rome?”

Will shrugged slightly. “... I suppose. Nico could probably pull some strings to get he and Lou and Cecil an apartment there, or maybe just he and Lou, because… I mean, Cecil wants to go to cooking school. I know he does. But if it comes to one or the other of us going to college, he’s gonna make me go, because he knows that in the end, I’d make more than he would, but…” Will took a deep sigh, “... that guy has one dream in life, and I really don’t want to fuck him out of it.”

“If you two both go to the university in New Rome, you could be roommates together, and you could both get what you want.” 

Will sighed. “But what about the money?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you could get a scholarship based on your powers,” Chiron mused. “You’re the most powerful healer I’ve seen in centuries.  _ And  _ you’re already near-fluent in Latin. I think you could hack it if we worked on it. I could teach you what you’d need to know for the SAT.”

“But what about the infirmary?” Will asked. 

“It would be a few hours a week. I’m not talking an eight to three school day here. I’m talking maybe three days a week, two or three hours a day. Besides, we can do it in the room across the hall from the infirmary, so we can hear it if anything starts happening. Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve got a lot of experience teaching and working the system, and you’re a promising student. Always have been. I’m sure I can get you a decent score. And New Rome is really understanding of… ah… unusual circumstances.”

“What about Cecil? The dude can barely read.”

Chiron pursed his lips. “I’m sure I can do something for him. As I said, lots of experience.”

Will was quiet for a few moments. Finally, he sighed, and his tense shoulders slumped. “Thanks, Chiron. That… that helps a lot.”

Chiron smiled. “It’s okay, Will. I see this all the time. You aren’t the first.” 

Will stood up, giving Chiron a wan smile. “Yeah, I’d bet. Anyway, I’m going to find Nico. I think he crawled back into bed. Do we start…?”  
“Monday,” Chiron started. “I think Monday, Wednesday and Friday could work. Send Cecil the word.”

Will thought. “I do too.” He opened his arms. “Hug? For your troubles?”

Chiron chuckled. “Of course.” He took Will in his arms, letting Will rest his head on his shoulder. Will’s warmth flooded Chiron’s body, and it was all Chiron could do not to let his eyes slip closed and his body involuntarily press himself against the safety and heat. 

When Will pulled away, his eyes were shining and his lips were curved into a gentle smile. “Thank you so much.”

“Again, not a problem,” Chiron replied.

Will ran off. Chiron smiled.  _ He’s a sweet boy. I hope this works for him. He deserves it. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fucking glad I'm past the "trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing for college" phase of my life. Now I'm in the "trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing for the rest of my life" phase of my life.
> 
> At least Will and Cecil (and Lou and Nico, if "sugar baby" counts as a career) know what they want to do with their lives.


	181. Pre-Solangelo-Sniffles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico walks in on Will having a vulnerable moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No... real warnings? It's never stated what Will's crying over, but he feels vulnerable and scared and wants to be defended.

Nico knocked on the door of the Apollo cabin, intending to talk to Will about where his shirt went after his infirmary stay. Sure, it was gross, crusty and bloody, and covered in parrots besides, but it was  _ his,  _ and after a month of doing it, he was tired of wearing Will’s hand-me-downs, despite how comfy they were, and how nice they smelled, and how they bagged around his thighs because of how tall Will was, and… 

.., why the Hades was he thinking about that?

He pushed inside after he got no response. “Will?”

Someone was audibly crying from inside. Nico approached. Will was curled up in his bed with his face pressed into the pillow, his shoulders shaking and heaving with his every sob. Nico’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. His chest tightened. Half of him wanted to turn around and run, leave the Apollo cabin forever and forget about this poor boy who was sobbing into his pillow right in front of him. The other half of him wanted to close the distance, touch and soothe like Bianca had always done for him, like he’d never been able to do. He’d never seen Will really cry before--he’d been close in the infirmary, but he’d never truly been in tears. The one time he’d really seen Will cry, it had been in front of Cecil, and Cecil had soothed him and calmed him down. He’d never just been  _ alone  _ with a crying Will.

He swallowed hard, reached out and poked Will’s shoulder, finding his skin pleasantly warm under his finger, and said, “Will?”  
Will gasped loudly. His eyes shot open. “Oh! Hey! Nico!” He sat up, forcing a smile despite the tears that still dribbled down his cheeks. “How are you? Do you need something?”

Nico swallowed. “I… um… where’s my shirt?”

“I…” he gasped, “... I think I… I think I threw… it away. I’m… I’m sorry.”

Nico picked at the button of his pants pocket. “... Oh. It’s okay. I can… I can get a new shirt. We’re good.”

“O… okay,” Will sniffled.

Nico shifted his feet, looking down at the wood planks of the floor. “... Are you… you know… okay? Did something happen?”

Will quickly looked away. “I… aaah…. I’m… look… Nico, I…” He gasped a few times, then fell into silence, taking a few deep breaths. He positioned the pillow beside him against the wall and lay against it, sniffling and holding himself. “Um… if you wanted to… if you wanted to hurt me…”

“Will, if I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it by now,” Nico sighed. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, I’m sure,” Nico said. “Besides, despite how annoying you are, I don’t want to see you hurt. I don’t dislike you, not really.”

Will took a deep breath. “... Thanks. That… that helps.” 

He was quiet for a long time. Nico watched as a few more tears trickled over his cheeks. Nico had to clench his fists to resist reaching out and brushing them away. His face looked soft and vulnerable, and it tugged Nico’s heartstrings in a way that he was definitely  _ not  _ comfortable with. “... Um…” Will started, “... if someone else… wanted to… hurt me… would you... ?”

“Defend you? Yeah, sure,” Nico shrugged. “I’d defend you, sure. I owe you one, I guess. You know, for the clothes, and the healing, and all of that.”  _ And also the thought of you hurt makes me hurt in ways I can’t explain, and I hate that.  _

Will sniffled. “... Yeah. I… I trust you… I guess.”

Nico gave a small sigh. “That’d be a first. Someone trusting me, that is.”

“Aw, I’m sure that’s not true,” Will replied, wiping his eyes. “I mean, there’s Jason and Hazel.”

Nico gave a small sigh. “You’re right. I was overreacting.” 

Will took a deep breath. “Glad you can see it. Anyway, I… I don’t… I’m gonna go to Cecil.” He stood up. “You do what you do.”   


Nico nodded. “I will do what I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I felt about this one, but I felt I needed more Will angst, especially with my backstory for him.


	182. Implied/One-Sided Loucil-I Want To Stay With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lou Ellen performs a special ritual on Cecil.
> 
> PLEASE READ THE BEGINNING NOTES!!!!!!!!! THEY'RE ACTUALLY KIND OF IMPORTANT THIS TIME!!!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for brief mention of... well... it's only described as "what Lou Ellen's father did to Will" but it was a rape, so warnings for that. Also warnings for painful witchcraft because Lou Ellen. But she's a lot nicer here than she is in some of the other stuff I've written, which is nice. Also, Cecil has a minor witchcraft kink, but it's not detailed in any way, obviously. Oh, yeah, and Cecil is shirtless for this entire drabble.
> 
> Okay, so this represents a retcon in the Weezl canon. I now HC that Will and Cecil told Lou Ellen of her father's crimes sometime shortly after the end of TOA, as opposed to a few years after, like was written earlier in the doc. I won't be rewriting "Believe Me" (drabble 96, as of current), at least not yet, because my rewrites of things have some kind of a curse on them where they're ALWAYS worse than the original, so the original "Believe Me" is staying up, despite the fact that it isn't canon. I've added a note on "Believe Me" stating the same.

“Are you ready?” 

Cecil nodded, taking a shaky breath. Lou Ellen was kneeling before him, fiddling with a Sharpie. She had a small bottle of oil in her hands. “Will this hurt?”

Lou Ellen bit her lip. “... Maybe.” She moved, tracing her fingers lightly over his bare shoulder. “I mean, you’re a Hermes kid. Anything that could pose a physical or… well… spiritual restriction could… you know… hurt.”

Cecil took a deep breath. “I know. I want to do this. I want to… I want to stay with you.” 

Lou Ellen only shook her head. “Can’t imagine why.”

Cecil put his hand on her shoulder. “Hey. What your father did to Will isn’t your fault. Don’t blame yourself. You’re a good person. You didn’t know. That’s all.”

Lou Ellen nodded weakly. “Right. Let’s just start. Now… are you  _ sure  _ about this?”

Cecil nodded. “Of course.” His voice was firm. 

“You realize that this is the equivalent of selling me your soul, right?”

“Right,” Cecil replied, again with conviction. 

“And that this is irreversible, right?”

“Right.” Cecil leaned his head back against the bed he was leaning against. The Hecate cabin was warm in early fall, and Cecil was starting to sweat. He hoped it wouldn’t make the spell not take. He didn’t know how he would hold up if he went through all the pain only to suffer some terrible curse, or to have nothing happen at all. 

“Good.” Lou Ellen leaned in and opened her marker.

Cecil shivered as the marker began tracing over his right pectoral. It was freezing cold and kind of tickled. 

“Don’t squirm.” Lou Ellen’s voice was flat. “If you squirm, I’ll fuck it up, and then it won’t work.”

Lou Ellen traced right next to his armpit, finishing the shape of a small jar. Cecil had to physically clench his fists to keep from flinching. It tickled  _ so bad, _ and was so cold, and the urge to squeal like a little girl was strong. It was somehow worse when the marker hit his neck. His breath came in shallow hics and jerks and he clung to the lower rail of the bunk to keep his shoulders from automatically moving to protect his vulnerable neck. Lou Ellen grabbed the back of his hair, pulled up his head and traced over the back of his neck with the marker, little x-marks in a ring around his neck. She finished his neck with a line through the centers of all the x-marks, a string of barbed wire.

Cecil gave an audible sigh of relief when the marker left his neck.

She moved on to his left pectoral, tracing a strange sort of swirl. Cecil bit his lip, feeling the swirl creep closer to his armpit before _oh, oh gods that’s so fucking tickly_ and he clenched his fingers on the bed rail and nearly chewed through his lip trying to keep from squealing out. His body burned with excitement, his skin nearly tingling with the heat and the sensations. Cecil felt like he was floating, somehow, his eyes closing despite his best efforts, his thoughts heavy and muddled. Gods, he was _burning._  
“Okay.” Lou Ellen’s voice was like a knife cutting through his thoughts. “I think that’s all that’ll tickle real bad. The painful part’s still coming up. Stay strong, alright, buddy?”

He gave a shaky gasp. “O… okay.”

Lou Ellen placed the marker in the center of his chest. She drew some circles, gently, more circles, then a large one. Her sigil, a little pig. Cecil’s blood rushed south so hard he nearly fainted. Cecil silently thanked all the gods above that she hadn’t hit his nipples with the marker. He was sure his reaction would have been far more embarrassing if she had. 

“Okay, just one more.” Lou Ellen took a deep breath. “Control yourself, okay?”

Cecil managed a nod. He took a deep breath and pictured Lou Ellen’s molester dad, and felt significantly less aroused. Lou Ellen traced sigils around his torso right below his belly button that were identical to the ones on his neck, barbed wire. Cecil shivered. She had a hand on his leg, warm against his thigh, and the tension  _ hurt.  _ He loved her-- _ really  _ loved her--but she’d never really returned the advances. 

It felt like an eternity before she pulled away. 

She uncorked the little bottle of oil. “Okay. This part may hurt.”

Cecil’s head spun slightly. “... Okay,” he murmured.

She poured the oil over her fingers. “The Sharpie is magical, but it needs the oil to set, especially into skin, and into a free spirit like yours.”

Cecil didn’t really respond. Lou Ellen began tracing softly over the sigils she’d made with the oil, pleasant and tingly until  _ oh holy fuck it BURNED.  _ An involuntary, helpless squeal of agony tumbled from his lips. Every scrap of skin covered by the oil stung like a million ants were biting at his flesh. His muscles contorted into a thousand lines of tension, trying not to shake or rock back and forth, but  _ oh gods was it painful  _ and he only wanted  _ relief.  _ He could barely feel the soft traces of Lou Ellen’s fingers over his skin over the burning pain. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Lou Ellen soothed. “It’s almost over, I promise.”

She traced oil over his neck and he swore to all the gods it felt like his very  _ core  _ was being burned away. His chest heaved involuntarily as Lou Ellen worked on his neck. Tears fell down his cheeks, involuntarily. 

And then it got worse. 

A stab jolted through his chest and he wailed,  _ screamed,  _ the very  _ core  _ of his chest burned like she’d poured acid in it. He was sure his eyes were still pouring tears, but he couldn’t feel them. He couldn’t feel anything.

Finally,  _ finally,  _ Lou Ellen’s voice cut through everything, the pain dissolving at her soft words. “Okay,” she whispered. “It’s done.” 

Cecil relaxed, shaking hard. “Oh… oh… oh... oh, gods…”

Lou Ellen reached out, brushing away his tears. “Okay, okay. You’re okay. Here, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

A gurgling sob choked from his throat. “Gods…”

“Yeah. I know. I know,” Lou Ellen whispered. “Here, let me help.” She wiped the oil from his chest with a paper towel, then draped a quilt over his shoulders and wrapped him up gently. 

Cecil pressed his face into the quilt and cried softly. Even though he wasn’t in pain anymore, he was just so  _ overwhelmed  _ that the tears just wouldn’t stop coming. He looked at Lou Ellen and he  _ wanted,  _ he  _ wanted  _ so badly to be held by her, be the recipient of her affections.

What had that spell done to him?

He knew that it would bind them. He knew that it meant that when he died, his soul would be bound to her as her familiar, to be summoned whenever she needed him. But did that mean that suddenly he was like… some kind of dog to her? 

The thought made him tingly inside. He looked up. She was studying him. “You done?” she asked.

“I’m… I’m okay,” he murmured, wiping his tears. “Just… it’s weird.”

“Weird?”

“Yeah, it’s like… I’m suddenly really just… drawn to you? Not in a sexual way or anything, don’t worry, I’m not gonna get molesty on you, but I just… really want your attention all of a sudden.”

Lou Ellen raised her eyebrows. “Like a pet. A dog or something.”

Cecil felt his face warm. “... Yeah, I guess.”

“Interesting,” Lou Ellen mused. “Well, we’ll see how it goes. If you start feeling an urge to sniff people’s buttholes, just let me know.”

Cecil managed a weak laugh. “Will do, Lou.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... how are you guys on this fine three in the morning, or whenever you're reading this? Do you guys like Loucil? I like Loucil. I just never write for it because I'm a fool, lol.


	183. Some Solangelo-All Balled Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is looking for Nico. He finds Nico, but he's doing a favor for Leo, and that proves a bigger challenge than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor death mention, not much else.

Will was trying to find Nico. 

He’d looked all throughout camp, with little success. He wasn’t in the swordfighting arena. He wasn’t in the infirmary. He wasn’t napping in his cabin, or in the Apollo cabin for that matter. He wasn’t with Mr. D. Will was starting to worry. As a last ditch effort, he’d opted to search the woods. He hated the woods. Demigods died in those woods. He wasn’t about to let that happen to Nico. 

He wasn’t far in before he heard someone crying--like,  _ really  _ crying, full on scream-crying. “Who’s there?” 

“Will?” That was Nico’s voice, but he wasn’t crying. “Get over here,  _ please!” _

Will took a deep breath, touching the med kit at his hip, just to remind him it was there if he needed it. “Where are you?”   


A shock of shiny raven hair popped up from behind a tree and over a bush. “Here!”

Will ran over. Nico was kneeling in the bushes, looking stunned. Next to him, Leo was balled up, his head on the ground, his knees beneath him. His whole body was shaking with the force of his sobs. Will drew a sharp breath. “Whoa, whoa, hey.” He knelt down and put a hand on Leo’s back. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

Nico shook his head. “I don’t know. I just… he asked me to… to do some Underworld-y stuff for him and when it was done he just broke down. I don’t know what happened.”

“What kind of Underworld-y stuff?” Will rubbed over Leo’s back and shoulder. “Hey, hey, I’ve got you.”

“He asked me to bring back his mother’s ghost so I did. They talked for a while--it was in Spanish, so I don’t know what they actually said--and then at one point he kind of got weepy, and said something, and then she kind of soothed him--or at least that’s what I think was happening--and then he just started wailing. Like, legitimate inconsolable wailing. It was terrifying.” Nico gave a shudder. 

Will took a breath. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll handle it from here, okay?” He turned back to Leo. “Here, look at me.” He moved his hands to Leo’s shoulders. 

“I… I ca… ca… I… Wi… i… I…” 

“It’s just me and Nico,” Will murmured. “You’re safe. It’s okay.”

Leo whimpered. He slowly raised his head. His bright amber eyes were painted in a deep crimson. Snot and grime coated his face. His tears traced clean spots on his cheeks. “You shou-u-u-uldn-n’t be-e touch-ing me.”

“Why not?” 

An expression of pure anguish flashed through Leo’s eyes. “... Fi.. ire.”

Will laughed. “You won’t burn me, Valdez. I know you won’t. And you know what? If you do, I heal real quick. I doubt you’d truly injure or disfigure me unless you wanted to.”

Leo swallowed. Will could see him calming down before his eyes. “... I guess.”

“You want a hug?” Will extended his arms. “I give nice hugs, or so I’ve heard.”

Leo dove into Will’s arms like he’d never been held before, pressing his face into Will’s neck. Will wrapped his arms around Leo and crushed him tight to his chest. Leo smelled like scrap metal and ten thousand little greasy things that Will, not being particularly mechanically inclined, couldn’t place. Leo was warm, at least, which made up for it. Besides, Will couldn’t have turned him away for the world. Not when he was so fragile.

  
  
  


It took Leo a long time to calm down. 

He hung like a baby sloth off of Will even after he calmed down, sniffling quietly into Will’s freckled neck. Will gave his back another little pat. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Leo shook his head.

“It might feel better if you talk.”

Leo shook his head again. 

“Okay. I can’t make you,” soothed Will. “Let’s get you to the infirmary. I think you could use a nice bath or something.” 

Leo managed a nod. He took a shaky breath. 

“Can you stand?”

“Yea… yeah,” Leo managed, extricating himself slowly from Will’s arms, almost as if it pained him. Will stood up and took Leo’s hand, helping him to his feet. He then turned and did the same to Nico. 

As they were walking home, Leo turned and whispered a quiet, “Thanks.”

Will gave him his gentlest smile. “No problem, Valdez.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt bad for not uploading in five days, so I hope you enjoyed this little tiny thing. I haven't written for Leo in a million years.

**Author's Note:**

> I might be a fucking idiot but I just realized that "ship" is short for "relationship" and it blew my mind.


End file.
